


Fake AH Kids

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Generally lots of sadness, childhood AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did the Fake AH Crew come together? As a collection of not-so-innocent elementary school students struggling with their shitty lots in life. </p><p>Gavin struggles to deal with a dad who’s never home. Michael’s mother is a violent and angry drunk. Ray is constantly shuffled between foster homes. Ryan’s over-protective parents insist on controlling every aspect of his life. Jack is forced to juggle school, a paper route, and caring for his grandmother at home. Geoff’s wealthy parents care more about their social life than their child. Jeremy’s father is a drug dealer and addict that is rarely fit to care for his son.</p><p>Alone, they’re just a gathering of confused and troubled children; together, they’re the Fake AH Crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lads

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am starting yet another story. Yes, it is more Fake AH Crew. I've had this idea in my head for a while, but I've been having some trouble getting it down. Updates may not come as frequently as my other stories, but I'll put up new chapters as soon as I have them.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the beginning of a new story!

The morning started with loud Mario theme music.

Gavin frowned, groaned, and disentangled his arm from the blankets in order to smack the alarm clock. The music stopped abruptly and Gavin yawned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. He continued to lay in bed, bundled up beneath his covers and reluctant to get up as he listened.

Ever since Gavin was little and just starting preschool, his dad would usually wait just outside the door, until Gavin’s alarm went off, and then he’d burst into the room. Some mornings he’d sing loudly and badly as he entered, whatever song popped into his mind. Other days started with tickle fights, where Gavin would squirm and squeal, and his dad only stopped when Gavin breathlessly promised to get up. Gavin’s favorite was when his dad pretended to be a big, hungry dinosaur, and he’d chase Gavin all around the house until Gavin took refuge in the bathroom.

But today, he didn’t hear anything coming from the hall. In fact, their normal routine hadn’t been going on all week, ever since they’d moved. Gavin frowned and slid out of bed, bare feet thumping softly against the surprisingly clean carpet. His room was almost empty and felt too big with only Gavin’s air mattress, suitcase, and backpack. His dad promised their stuff would be coming from England soon, but until then, his room was bare.

Gavin cracked his door open and peered cautiously into the hall. Occasionally, his dad waited outside his door to scare him, or scoop him up and carry him upside down into the living room. But there was no one there and Gavin pouted, wandering down the hall to his dad’s room.

There was no answer when Gavin knocked lightly on the door, so he tried again, harder, but got the same results. Gavin pushed the door open and peeked inside, calling, “Dad? Are you up?” It didn’t happen often, but Gavin’s dad sometimes came home real late, and so he wouldn’t get up in time. A couple times, Gavin had found his dad still sleeping, and once he’d come in as his dad raced around the room getting ready.

But today, the room was empty. The blankets his dad had been using were neatly folded and stacked in the corner. A few pieces of clothing were likewise put away, but his suitcase was missing. Gavin frowned and closed the door, trudging into the living room.

“Dad? Are you home?” he called, but still no one answered, and his voice echoed creepily in the empty house. Sighing, Gavin wandered into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast before he had to get dressed. The answering machine flashed on the counter and Gavin paused, pushing the button to play back the messages. His dad always said it was important to check any messages, just in case they were urgent.

Gavin skipped the first couple messages, things his dad hadn’t deleted yet that had already been played, until the little mechanical voice informed him that he’d reached the new message. It beeped and the voice of Gavin’s dad sounded clearly through the kitchen.

“Hey, bud,” his dad said, his voice a little static-y through the machine. “I’m really sorry, but I had to go. They called me in to work after you went to bed, and I have to travel this time. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? And when I get back, all our stuff should have come over, and we can go get it and set up the house. I asked Mrs. Harris next door to check on you and make sure you’re okay, and I put the emergency money in the utility drawer. Have a good day at school. I’ll call you tonight.” The machine beeped again, the little voice running through the different options, until Gavin cancelled the play back.

Gavin sighed heavily and turned his back on the answer machine, grabbing a box of cereal from a bottom cupboard and tossing it roughly onto the counter. His dad hadn’t been around ever since they’d moved, too busy with his new job at the FBI. He didn’t have time for Gavin anymore, but Gavin hoped that maybe, after this job, he’d be done for a while and he’d actually do what he promised.

Stomach rumbling audibly, Gavin pulled himself up onto the counter, grabbing a bowl from a high shelf. He was small for a seven-year-old, and almost always had to climb up somewhere to get something. Getting back down, Gavin moved slowly and carefully. He once almost broke his arm falling off the counter in their old place, and since then, Gavin tried very hard not to fall. It didn’t always work, but he hadn’t been hurt that much since.

Gavin grabbed the milk from the fridge and fixed himself a quick bowl of cereal. He didn’t have long to eat and he scarfed it down, dripping milk on his pajama shirt and then tossing the empty bowl in the sink. The clock on the stove told Gavin had he only a few minutes until he had to leave, if he wanted to be at school on time, and he spit out a word that he knew his dad wouldn’t like him using as he rushed back to his room.

He got dressed hurriedly, throwing on pants and buttoning up his shirt as he wandered back into the living room. It took him two tries to do the buttons right, since they didn’t line up like they should have at first, and then he snatched his backpack and sunglasses from the living room table. The backpack was thrown over Gavin’s shoulders, and he shoved the plastic, gold-rimmed sunglasses on his face. The glasses had been a present from his dad when they’d moved; Gavin had picked them out at the airport when they had landed. He’d kept them with him every day since they’d gotten to Achievement City.

With shoes still untied and loosely clinging to his feet (only one of which had a sock on it), Gavin rushed out the door, only barely remembering to grab his keys and lock the house behind him. He had a few blocks to go and only a few minutes to do it, so Gavin set off at a run down the sidewalk, backpack thumping heavily against his back and wind blowing through his messy hair.

            -----

Michael’s alarm blared, a loud, grating beep echoing through his small room that was shut off within seconds. He pushed himself into a sitting position, blankets falling from his small frame, and glanced at the door. It remained closed and stationary, no sound coming from the other side. Michael let out a breath and nodded, rubbing at his eyes as he forced himself out of bed.

Michael’s room was in a horrible state of disarray. Toys and clothes littered the floor, and a few of the toys were damaged and broken. A G.I. Joe figure was missing its arm, a little racecar lay crushed and broken, and Legos peppered the floor from an exploded creation. Multiple dents covered the walls, and there was a large hole in the plaster above Michael’s bed.

Kicking clothes and objects aside, Michael pulled open his closet door and stared into the hanging mirror, like he did every morning.

A scrawny, almost sickly looking seven-year-old looked back at Michael with eyes highlighted by dark circles. His curly brown hair drooped sadly, and Michael figured he probably needed a shower, but he hadn’t given himself enough time. And it wasn’t too bad yet; he could wait another couple days if he had to.

Michael pulled off his pajama shirt, wincing as his muscles pulled painfully. Bruises darkened his skin beneath his shirt, some new and some old. Yellow marks on his arms faintly resembled hand prints, his chest was covered in all colors, and a dark purple bruise was forming on his side. There were a few healing cuts mixed in with the bruising, and he had a few thin scars along his arms and chest.

Fingers gently brushing against the mark on his side, Michael winced. Pain and discomfort radiated from the bruise, but he kept prodding at it until he was able to touch it without wincing or flinching. He couldn’t look like he was in pain while he was at school. Teachers would get involved again, and Michael was running out of stories to tell.

Michael threw on clothes he grabbed from the floor, kicking the closet door closed. As soon as he was dressed, he slipped out of his room, moving quickly and silently across the hall to the bathroom. He glanced at the other bedroom door as he went, behind which he could hear faint snoring. Michael let out a breath, shoulders relaxing and slumping. His mom only snored when she was sleeping heavily; it would take a lot to wake her up from that.

Pushing the bathroom door closed behind him, Michael turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. He dried his face off on a towel and grabbed his glasses from the counter. One of the arms was taped on, and one of the frames had a crack in it, but they worked well enough. And Michael knew his mom didn’t have enough money for another pair. She’d told him so when they were broken, and many times since.

As soon as he was done in the bathroom, Michael wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a Pop-Tart from a box in one of the cupboards. Unlike his bedroom, the living room and kitchen were nice and orderly. Michael tried as hard as he could to keep it clean, because his mom got angry when it was dirty, and she hated it when she had to clean it herself. Michael had gotten in a lot of trouble before for leaving a mess for her to clean up when she got out of bed.

Michael was careful to keep the Pop-Tart wrapped in its shiny wrapper to keep crumbs off the floor as he grabbed an empty wine bottle from the counter and dropped it in the trash. The glass beside it went in the dishwasher, and Michael wiped up the spilled wine with a damp paper towel. A couple minutes, and it looked like the counter hadn’t been touched.

Once he finished his Pop-Tart, Michael threw away the trash and moved into the living room to finish getting ready. The bus wouldn’t arrive for a few minutes, so he had enough time to move slow. Besides, he preferred not to rush, just in case he _did_ wake his mom up by making too much noise. She got more upset about Michael waking her up than she did about having to clean. Michael hated it when she was woken up early.

A small coat rack hung beside the front door, and Michael grabbed his jacket from its peg. It was still warm, but he loved the worn leather jacket he draped over his shoulders. It was still relatively new and smelled like warm leather, and its weight was nice and comforting. His mom hated it, and had threatened to throw it out at one point, but Michael had kicked and fought and screamed and wound up in the hospital with a broken arm and his jacket.

Gifts like his leather jacket were the only things Michael had of his dad. His mom said he left when Michael was small, because his dad was a worthless, lazy piece of shit who hated both of them and wanted nothing to do with them. She insisted that Michael’s dad was a horrible, cruel man, but Michael had never believed her. Every year on his birthday, these gifts were left outside Michael’s window, ever since he was four. They always came with a note, and Michael had learned to read just so he knew what the notes said, since the first one angered his mom so much she burnt the note and went into one of her rages when he showed it to her.

Michael made sure the jacket was sitting right on his shoulders and slipped on his sneakers that sat neatly beneath the coat rack. His backpack sat on a hook by the door, along with his house keys, and he grabbed both as he opened the front door of their trailer. Michael pulled the door closed and locked it, trotting down the drive to the trailer park’s bus stop, mild aches and pains radiating from his sore chest.

 ----- 

Ray was woken up by a pillow hitting him in the face.

Lurching upright, Ray grabbed at the pillow and blinked sleepily, trying to figure out what was going on. But no amount of blinking was actually helping him focus; his eyesight was so bad without his glasses that everything was just going to be blurry anyway.

“It’s seven. We need to be down at breakfast in fifteen minutes,” Chris said, and Ray could see the general blobby shape of his roommate as Chris moved around getting ready.

Ray groaned and scrubbed at his face, throwing the pillow back toward Chris with his eyes closed. He heard it hit something hard, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t Chris. The other boy laughed and left the room while Ray reached for the glasses on his night stand.

Once Ray put them on, everything snapped into focus, and he looked around his bedroom sleepily. It wasn’t even really his room. The two beds were covered with generic blue comforters, not the Pokémon blankets Ray had wanted. Boring landscape photos hung on the walls, and the furniture seemed to fit more in an adult’s room. Two beds, a single dresser, and a nearly empty bookshelf. There were very few toys, and most of Ray’s things weren’t anywhere in the room. Most of the stuff on the bookshelf was Chris’s, and all the clothes in the dresser were his, too. Ray kept all of his things in his suitcase, underneath his bed. He didn’t want to leave out all his belongings only to have to put them all away again right afterward.

Ray slipped out of bed and took a moment to make up the blankets nice, settling his stuffed cheetah, Percival, against the pillows. It always seemed rude to leave the bed unmade, especially since so many families he’d stayed with hated it. This one didn’t seem to care as much, but Ray didn’t want to take that chance.

Pulling out his suitcase from beneath the bed, Ray flipped it open and pulled out his clothes for the day. When he stripped out of his pajamas, those went in the suitcase, and then everything went back beneath the bed.

Ray was a small, scrawny kid with naturally tanned skin and a disheveled head of dark hair. Most of his clothes didn’t fit right; he had to roll his pant legs up, and his purple hoodie sleeves fell past his hands. But the clothes had been bought for an average seven-year-old, not someone his size. He was just glad he had something comfy to wear, and he liked the really big hoodie cause he could hide in it if he wanted. And the inside was soft and fuzzy.

Once he was dressed, Ray stepped out of his room with the intention of stopping by the bathroom, but the door was closed and the light was on, shining through the cracks between the door and the frame. He waited out in the hall, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as his body started suddenly insisting he had to go, and he bounced in place impatiently. It was hard sometimes, sharing one bathroom with three other people. It was never open when Ray wanted it.

It was a few minutes before the bathroom door opened and a little girl came out. She almost ran into Ray and stared at him wide-eyed, apologizing quickly and running downstairs to the kitchen. Ray frowned after her but didn’t say anything, continuing with what he was doing.

By the time Ray got downstairs himself, it was a couple minutes past the fifteen Chris had mentioned. Boxes of cereal, a carton of milk, and a bowl of fruit sat on the table, and the four other kids in the house were already eating. Of all of them, Caleb, a tall boy around Ray’s age, was the only kid who actually belonged there. Everyone else was only there until they were moved off somewhere else.

“You’re late, Ray,” Mrs. Denecour said without turning to look at him. She was alternating between feeding the baby and cutting up the little girl’s banana. “You know you need to get ready yourself. You’re too old to be needing help, and I can’t spend time making sure everyone is up when they need to be.”

“I know. Sorry,” Ray mumbled, falling into the last remaining chair and pulling the fruit basket toward himself. He grabbed an apple and nibbled on it, biting off little pieces and not looking at anyone. Chris and Caleb joked around with each other, teasing and laughing. Mrs. Denecour was busy with the younger two kids. No one made any effort to include Ray, but he was used to it. He just let everyone else go on around him and kept to himself.

Ray only ate about half of his apple before he pushed himself up and wandered away from the table, dropping the apple in the trash and trudging into the living room. His backpack rested on the couch and Ray flopped down beside it, digging a GameBoy from the front pocket. A set of headphones was pulled out of his bag next and he slipped them over his head, plugging them into his game. Pokémon started up on the screen and Ray focused on his game while he waited for everyone else to be ready to go.

Games were the best thing Ray had found to focus on. It was a world that made sense, and it was something that Ray could control. He got to decide when he did things and how he did them; no one else made that choice but him. It was a nice break from his real life.

Ray had been jumping between homes since he was three years old, going from nice families that actually seemed to care, to a place that had refused to feed him unless he followed their ridiculously strict rules to a tee. One of the better families had bought him the GameBoy and a couple used games when he’d left, to take his mind off of everything. And it helped, sometimes.

The GameBoy kept Ray occupied until he noticed everyone else moving around him. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, slipping his shoes on quietly and continuing his game as he moved, never looking up from the screen for more than a few seconds. Still no one made to talk to him or include him, and Ray followed them silently outside to Mrs. Denecour’s car. She would drop them off at school and day care on her way to work, like she’d planned.

While the rest of the kids chattered and laughed and played around, Ray sank into the back seat of the van, blocking out everything and preparing himself for the first day at yet another school.


	2. The Gents

Ryan was awake long before his alarm ever went off. He had forgotten to take his sleep aide the night before, and his insomnia had him unable to sleep for most of the night. He felt both exhausted and buzzing with energy at the same time, and he knew he’d be going back and forth between the two states all day. School was not going to be fun.

That morning, Ryan was lying across his bed on his back, tossing a ball into the air and catching it when it came back down. There really wasn’t too much else to occupy him in his room. His parents were against him having any kind of electronic device – computer, television, handheld gaming system, CD player, anything – because they feared that he would get negative ideas from what he saw, or that prolonged exposure to these devices would impair his development. Most of the books that crowded his bookshelf had been read multiple times, and none of them had even been that interesting to begin with. Ryan wasn’t allowed any toys that could be considered violent or have any ties to violent behavior, or anything that he could injure himself with. It left him with stuffed animals, Mega Blocks, a couple toy cars, and the stress ball he was currently throwing.

Soft, instrumental music sprang up suddenly and Ryan scowled, propping himself up on his elbows and glaring at the alarm clock across the room. It continued to play music cheerfully and he threw the stress ball at it, smacking the alarm clock against the wall with a bang. Ryan winced, leaping out of bed and settling the clock back on his dresser nicely. He turned off the alarm while he was up and the music cut off abruptly.

Ryan grabbed the stress ball and started his morning routine. Especially after that crash, if he was even a few seconds late getting down to breakfast, his parents would start to worry.

At nine years old, Ryan was a little taller than the average fourth grader. He had light brown hair and he was pretty sure there would be marks around his blue eyes from lack of sleep. A lot of people said he was a very handsome young man, though in the case of his parents, it was usually followed with statements like “but you’re still too skinny” or “though I think you’re long overdue for a haircut”. There was always something wrong.

Ryan made his bed and put the stress ball back on his bookshelf. His entire room was perfectly clean and tidy, almost obsessively so, and Ryan only maintained the clean space out of boredom and to please his parents. As soon as his room was tidy again, Ryan changed into clean clothes and threw his pajamas in the hamper in his closet.

Within a few minutes, after taking the time to wash his face, brush his teeth, and comb his hair, Ryan wandered into the dining room, almost running headlong into his mom. She stopped and blinked at him in surprise, wringing a small towel between her hands.

“I was just coming up to check on you, honey. I heard a crash, and you hadn’t come downstairs yet. Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, looking at Ryan with that wide-eyed concerned look that drove him insane. He hated it when adults looked at him like that, like they were waiting for him to blow up or fall to pieces.

But Ryan just smiled winningly at his mom, nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said cheerfully. “I just fell out of bed.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” his mom cried, grabbing his arms and looking him over carefully. Ryan mentally growled and rolled his eyes, gently pushing his mom’s hands off his arms.

“I’m fine, mom. Really. Not a scratch,” Ryan assured her. “Can I eat now?”

His mom frowned at him but nodded, moving out of the doorway. Breakfast was already laid out on the table and Ryan fought back a face of disgust. A bowl of plain oatmeal sat on the table, thick and cooled so he didn’t burn his tongue, with a pre-cut banana on a plate and a glass of orange juice. It was all so bland and boring, and Ryan hated it. He wanted sweet, sugary cereal, but it wasn’t good for him, so he couldn’t have it.

Ryan sat down and started eating. He wanted to just scarf it down so he didn’t have to taste it anymore, but he’d been lectured a few times about the dangers of eating too fast, and he didn’t want to hear it again. So he was careful about eating slowly and having to taste every disgusting bite.

"Don’t forget your medication,” his mom said and Ryan grimaced. He’d hoped she’d forget, but she never did. A handful of pills was set down next to his plate and Ryan stared at them, wishing his mom would look away so he could just pretend he’d taken them. So many doctors and therapists had given him medications for a collection of mental illnesses, some of which Ryan didn’t even believe he had, and then there were the vitamins and supplements that pretty much doubled the number. Ryan hated taking it all – it didn’t make him feel right. But Ryan’s mom always lingered until he swallowed them, after she’d caught him tossing pills down the sink.

Ryan forced himself to swallow the pills, chasing each one down with orange juice. As soon as they were all gone, Ryan’s mom left to collect his school supplies and finish making his lunch. His dad was already gone to work; he always left before Ryan woke up, and was always back just a little after lunch.

Once he was done eating, Ryan went into the kitchen with his dishes. His mom took them from his hands and put them away, passing him his lunch box in their place. “Your bag is sitting on the couch like normal. Wait for me in the car; I’ll be right there,” she said.

“Okay,” Ryan said, grabbing his bag and carrying it and his lunch box into the garage and the car. He yanked open the back door and threw everything inside, hopping inside afterward. With any luck, the new school wouldn’t be as bad as the last.

 ----- 

Jack pedaled up the street, leaning into the handlebars to go faster. He’d had to see his boss and get his money for the week, so he was a little late getting home. And there was still so much to do before he left for school.

The bike shook and bounced as Jack sped over potholes and cracks in the asphalt. Cool air blew past his face, throwing back his red hair; it was still too early for the day to start warming up, the sun only recently above the horizon.

Despite the fact that Jack was almost always on his bike, between his paper route and needing to get from point A to point B on his own, he was what his grandma called ‘husky’. Jack had a little extra weight compared to other nine-year-olds, which his grandma said was perfectly natural, since he needed somewhere to store all his kindness. Jack thought it was kind of silly theory, but he liked hearing it all the same.

By the time Jack turned into his driveway, the morning fog was starting to dissipate under the sun, and he could hear his neighbors stirring. A woman ran by with a dog and a couple kids screamed with laughter next door. Jack hopped off his bike, leaning it against the wall. He pulled out his keys and let himself into the house, tossing the keys onto a table by the entrance and kicking the door closed.

“Grandma, I’m back!” he called, wandering into the kitchen. Jack grabbed one of the spice jars on the counter and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, shoving it in the jar. All the money he made with his paper route was kept there, for emergencies. It was starting to fill up, which was good, because they were running low on groceries.

There was no sound from anywhere else in the house, but Jack was used to it. It was normally pretty quiet in the mornings. Jack pulled a loaf of bread from the bread box and eggs from the fridge, then scrounged up a frying pan from one of the cupboards. The pots and pans crashed together while Jack tried to get one out and he winced, trying to quiet it.

Jack heated up the pan and threw some bread in the toaster. He cracked a couple eggs into the pan and hunted down a spatula. A few minutes later, he scraped the scrambled eggs onto a plate, turning the stove off and setting the pan aside. Jack put the toast on another plate, and both of them went on a tray with silverware. Jack put a couple spots of jelly on each slice of toast, filled a glass with milk, and then lifted the tray carefully from the counter and took it down the hall.

The door to the bedroom at the end of the hall was open, and Jack could see his grandma sitting up in bed and reading. He didn’t often see her doing anything else in the morning.

“I brought you breakfast, grandma,” he said, stepping up beside her bed and setting the tray on her nightstand. She looked up, blinking behind her glasses, and smiled. She settled the book on her chest and reached out to pat Jack’s hand.

“Well, good morning, Jack,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was weak and tired, like normal. “Thank you for breakfast. It looks delicious. You ate too, right?”

“Not yet,” Jack admitted, grabbing her hand and squeezing briefly before he pulled away and went over to her dresser. A pill caddy sat on top of the dresser and Jack popped open Monday’s container, pulling out the collection of colorful pills. “You haven’t taken your meds yet.”

“I was going to when I got up,” his grandmother protested. Jack set her pills down on the tray next to her breakfast and moved her book, sliding the tray from the table to her lap. He put the bookmark from the nightstand in the book and set it aside.

“You always forget. Make sure to eat,” Jack said, going around the bed and pulling the curtains open. The room was always too dark, and the doctor said it was good to give her as much sunlight as possible. She didn’t often have the energy to go outside, so Jack made sure her curtains were open whenever he left.

When Jack turned back around, he noticed his grandma had started eating like he’d suggested. She nibbled on her toast and looked at Jack, still smiling faintly. “You start school today, don’t you?” she asked. Jack nodded, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. I need to leave soon,” he said. Watching her eat, his own stomach grumbled, but Jack figured he could eat something real quick while he was riding his bike. It wasn’t too hard to ride a bike one-handed. “Are you gonna be okay alone?”

His grandma chuckled, rubbing Jack’s back. “I’ll be fine, Jackie. I got on well enough before you started living here; I can take care of myself for a few hours,” she said. “You go and learn a lot. Make some new friends; you never have anyone over, it’s not normal.”

“Sure, grandma,” Jack said with a thin smile. He honestly hadn’t really tried to make friends. Between his paper route, school, homework, chores, and taking care of his grandma, he didn’t have time to go out and play with anyone. He didn’t want to disappoint any friends he made by never having time to spend with them. “I need to get ready.”

Jack twisted around on the bed and kissed his grandma on the cheek. She returned the kiss, cupping his face with one hand. “You’re such a good boy. I love you, Jack,” she said fondly.

“I love you too, grandma. I’ll be back as soon as school is over,” Jack promised. He got up and left the room, giving his grandma a chance to finish her breakfast. He had to leave if he wanted to be on time for the first day of school.

 ----- 

“Geoffrey? Are you awake?” a woman called, knocking lightly on the door. Geoff frowned and flipped around so his back was to the door, covering his head with a pillow. “Geoffrey, wake up. You need to leave soon.”

“It’s Geoff,” the boy griped into his pillow. No one around the house ever just called him Geoff. It was always Geoffrey, and it drove him insane. He always thought his full name sounded like it belonged to a boring old man.

The door opened and the light clicked on, glowing faintly around the pillow. Geoff moaned pitifully, curling into a tight ball beneath his blankets, an idea forming in his mind. “I can’t go to school today, Sheila. I’m sick,” he whimpered. The pillow was lifted from his head and Geoff pouted, sniffling for dramatic effect.

Sheila looked down at the nine-year-old, partially concerned and partially fed up. The nanny reached out to feel Geoff’s forehead, and the boy winced inwardly. She wasn’t supposed to check if he was actually sick.

“Well, you don’t have a fever. And you’re not sniffling anymore. I think you’ll be fine,” she said with a smile, crossing Geoff’s large room to pull open the curtains. “Besides, you don’t want to miss the first day of school.

“But I don’t want to go to this stupid school. I don’t know anyone there! I don’t have any friends there!” Geoff protested, throwing his blankets off and sitting up. His dark hair stuck up every which way except for the one flat part that he’d slept on.

“I thought you didn’t like the kids at the academy,” Sheila said, grabbing his clothes from the closet and setting them out on Geoff’s desk chair.

"I don't, but I at least know them," Geoff said, watching her pull out a dress shirt and one of his suit jackets and he turned his nose up in disgust. “Why do I have to wear that?” he complained. “It’s hot and itchy, and I thought the school didn’t have uniforms.”

Sheila smiled, and she at least left Geoff’s ties hanging where they were. “Yes, but your father has insisted that you should look as nice as possible in public,” she said apologetically.

Geoff scoffed, hopping out of bed. “Like he’d even notice. He’s never home; he wouldn’t even know if I left the house wearing only my underwear,” he grumbled, pulling his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. Sheila would clean up the room later.

“I think it’s probably better if you don’t antagonize your father right now, Geoffrey,” Sheila warned, and Geoff huffed, snatching the dress shirt off the chair. “He’s only just getting over his anger at your expulsion. Go ahead and change. I’ll have breakfast ready for you when you come down.”

Sheila ruffled Geoff’s hair as she passed, and he attempted to flatten it out when she left. He finished getting dressed, the suit jacket settling heavily on his shoulders. All of his clothing was tailored perfectly to his small frame, though the tightness in the jacket’s shoulders suggested it was time to visit the tailor again. It was difficult to keep Geoff clothed when he was still growing.

Geoff’s bedroom was huge, big enough to be considered a master bedroom in most houses, but here it wasn’t even close to that size. It was still a relatively small room, and it was packed full of expensive belongings. His bed was big enough that he could lay in every direction and still not have any parts hanging off the bed. A large television sat on the entertainment center across from his bed, with a VCR, a Nintendo 64 and a PlayStation hooked up underneath.

Shelves lined Geoff’s walls, holding an extensive gaming collection, numerous VHS tapes, books, and various toys and collectibles. Toy planes and space ships hung from the ceiling, a train ran around on a track attached high on the wall, and movie posters and expensive original gaming prints hung from his walls. More toys filled labeled totes against one wall, and a bulky computer sat on Geoff’s desk, with more games nearby.

It was always easy for Geoff to get anything he wanted, but his parents seemed to think that all he needed was things. And it was nice to have so much to do, and to be able to get games and toys before they were released to the public, but Geoff had no one to play with. His parents were never around, he had no siblings, and he hated all the other rich kids. They were so stuck-up and full of themselves, not to mention dry and boring, that Geoff hated hanging around them. So he didn’t want to spend time with them.

Geoff kicked his clothes toward the closet and left his room, heading downstairs, where he could smell pancakes and bacon from the dining room. Sheila had laid his breakfast out on the table for him and Geoff slid into his seat, feeling small and lonely at the large table. Their dining room could hold fourteen people, to accommodate all his parent’s special guests and frequent dinner parties, but he often ate there alone. The giant table was too big for just Geoff, but he wasn’t allowed to eat in his room.

“I’ll drive you to school today,” Sheila said, coming around behind Geoff and setting a glass of chocolate milk by his hand. He grabbed it and took a big drink, making sure he got a big milk mustache from it.

“Are mom and dad going to be home anytime soon?” Geoff asked, stuffing his mouth with bacon. Sheila handed him a napkin and Geoff wiped the grease from his hands, settling the napkin on his lap out of habit.

“I think your mother will be home later tonight. She’s flying back from Chicago this afternoon. Your father will be gone on his trip for two more days,” Sheila answered. Geoff frowned. Of course they would still be gone. And even if his mom returned soon, she’d only leave again right after. She always had somewhere more important to be than with Geoff.

“Okay,” he mumbled, drowning his pancakes in syrup.

“Cheer up, Geoffrey. Your parents will bring you gifts when they return, like they always do. They’re just busy right now,” Sheila said. “Now hurry up and eat. We need to be getting to the school.”

Geoff sighed, poking at his pancakes with a fork. He really didn’t want to go to the new school, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d been expelled from the academy he’d been attending for the last few years, after he had started a fight with another student, stolen some snacks from the convenience store on campus, and cursed out one of his teachers. So now Geoff had to go to some public elementary school until his parents could come up with a new plan.

But who knew. Maybe it would be better than the academy and its bullshit.


	3. The First Day

Ryan sighed as his mom pulled into the school’s parking lot, slowly hunting for a place to park. There was still quite a bit of time until school started, and yet the parking lot was full, a line stretched to the road from the drop-off area, and the yard was full of children and parents. He watched kids playing, saying goodbye to their parents, and meeting up with friends. Parents stayed near their children or talked with other groups of adults.

“You don’t have to come in with me, mom,” Ryan said as his mom started her second lap around the lot. “I’ll be okay by myself.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. I don’t mind going in with you,” his mom said and Ryan allowed himself a small frown. That wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. “I know how anxious you get in crowds; I’d never let you deal with that alone.”

Ryan slumped back in his seat, continuing to stare out the window. If he wasn’t forced to take all that medication, he wouldn’t feel quite as anxious. It always made it worse. And it didn’t help that his mom refused to let Ryan deal with it on his own and figure out his own way to fix his problems. She always had to know what was best for Ryan.

Finally, they managed to park when another parent pulled out, and Ryan snatched up his bags, hopping out of the car. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and met his mom at the back of the car.

“Put your backpack on all the way,” she said, grabbing the other strap and holding it out. Ryan sighed, shifted his lunchbox to his other hand, and shoved his arm through the opening. “There you go. You’ll hurt your shoulder if you don’t wear it right.”

“Okay, mom,” Ryan said, as cheerfully as he could manage. He started toward the school and his mom cleared her throat pointedly, making him pause mid-step.

“James Ryan, what have I told you about parking lots?” she said sternly, and Ryan winced. It was less at her tone and more at her use of his name. She normally refused to call him Ryan like he wanted, insisting it was best if he grew to like and accept his real name, so any time she _did_ use his middle name, Ryan knew she meant business.

“Parking lots are dangerous, and I shouldn’t cross them without holding your hand and looking both ways,” Ryan droned, repeating the words he’d heard many times since he was very little. “But I’m nine now, mom! I know not to walk in front of a car.”

His mom stared at him with wide, worried eyes, and Ryan mentally kicked himself. He knew what that look meant, and he knew he should’ve kept his big mouth shut. “Are you feeling okay, James? I gave you your anti-depressants, right? And the bipolar meds?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders and looking into his eyes.

“Yes, mom. I just –” Ryan started, but he was interrupted.

“You’re not feeling suicidal again, are you? Because you know how dangerous drivers are, and you can’t trust them to see you,” she continued, smoothing Ryan’s hair back. “Maybe we should miss school today, and you can talk to your therapist and figure out what’s going on.”

Ryan smiled, dropping his lunchbox and grabbing his mom’s hands. “Mom. I’m okay. Really. I was just…nervous. Yeah, I’m nervous. But I’ll be okay. I don’t want to miss the first day of school,” he said gently.

“Okay… If you’re sure…” his mom said slowly, giving him the time to change his mind with the drawn-out words. But Ryan didn’t want to go talk to his therapist. He was pretty sure she secretly hated him and his parents, and her office always smelled like wet dog and curdled milk. Ryan really didn’t like it there.

“I’m sure, mom. I’ll be okay,” Ryan repeated, letting go of one of her hands and grabbing his lunchbox. She clung tightly to his hand and led him across the parking lot, through the group gathering in front of the building, and through the main entrance. The halls were covered in bright posters and displays, and a banner hung from the ceiling, covered in colorful hand prints. The office was situated near the front doors, and people flowed in and out readily.

Ryan’s mom led him into the office, around all the people. Three women sat behind the desk, talking to parents, and they looked about how Ryan felt most of the time – tired, harried, stressed, but still smiling. One of them looked over at Ryan and his mom, smiling down at Ryan.

“Good morning. What can I help you two with?” she said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Ryan’s mom said, finally letting go of Ryan’s hand as she put her purse up on the desk and leaned on it. Ryan set his lunchbox down and crossed his arms on the desk, resting his chin on his arms. “I called last week about accommodations for my son. I just wanted to make sure everything was in place. His name is James. James Haywood.”

The receptionist nodded and turned to her computer, fingers flying over the keys as she ran a quick search. She scanned over the information on the screen and smiled, nodding, as she turned back to them. “It looks like everything is in place, Mrs. Haywood. James’s classroom is at the end of the main hall, on the right hand side. Mr. Cole will be his teacher. The special education classroom is only a couple doors down, and Mr. Wolfe is in charge of it. Both of James’s teachers are eager to meet with him.”

“Great, thank you,” Ryan’s mom said, accepting a simplistic map of the school from the receptionist. “Come on, James. Let’s go talk to your teachers.”

 ----- 

The elementary school was the first place Mrs. Denecour got to that morning. There were so many kids running around, and so many cars in the parking lot. Ray looked out the window at all the people, wondering how many of them would actually notice him, and if any of them would even care when he inevitably changed schools again midway through the year.

Even after they hit the parking lot, it took a few minutes for Mrs. Denecour to be able to pull up in front of the school. Ray set his GameBoy down on his lap and watched everyone moving around outside. A group of girls huddled together, talking and laughing. Two boys, smaller than Ray, ran across the field and between adults’ legs, fleeing from an older boy. Parents held their children’s hands, knelt down to their small children to comfort them and dry their tears. Kids were hugged and kissed and given comforting toys or their lunches. Most parents lingered after saying goodbye in order to watch their children leave.

Watching all of this made Ray’s chest hurt and a lump formed in his throat as he looked down at his lap, busying himself with saving his game and turning off his GameBoy.

“Okay, boys,” Mrs. Denecour said over her shoulder as she stopped in front of the doors. Ray, Chris, and Caleb undid their seatbelts and grabbed their bags. “I’ll pick you up a little after school. Make sure you’re waiting out front for me.”

“Okay. Bye, mom! Love you!” Caleb said, throwing open the van’s door and hopping out with Chris right behind him. Ray slipped out afterward, pressing the button to close the van’s door again and slinging his backpack over his shoulders. His headphones hung from his neck and he shoved his GameBoy in his hoodie pocket, silently trudging after Chris and Caleb.

The three of them had been assigned to the same classroom this year, and the two of them knew where they were going. Ray had never been in the building before, and Mrs. Denecour hadn’t taken the time to make sure they knew where they were going. Caleb had been going to Achievement Elementary for years, and from the sound of it, Chris had been there the previous year as well. Ray just wished he didn’t have to be following them.

Chris and Caleb talked cheerfully on their way in, and just before reaching the doors, detoured to a group standing near the entrance. There were two older boys, at least a couple grades above Ray, and a girl that looked like her age was somewhere in the middle. Ray frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over at the building. He just wanted to go inside and sit down, but without the other two boys, he’d end up wandering the halls in confusion.

“Hi, Burnie!” Caleb greeted cheerfully and one of the boys turned around, grinning. He had dark, messy hair and glasses, a lot like Ray, but he was a lot bigger.

“Hey, guys!” Burnie said in about the same tone, high-fiving Chris and giving Caleb a fist bump. “Who’s your friend?”

Chris glanced at Ray over his shoulder and shrugged. “Oh, that’s Ray. He’s staying with us for now. Caleb’s mom wanted us to show him where to go,” he said dismissively. Ray ducked his head, pulling the hood of his jacket up so he could hide inside it.

The girl bent down so that she could see Ray inside his hood. She had long blond hair and a cheerful smile. “Hi, Ray,” she greeted, holding her hand out to him. “I’m Barbara. This is Burnie and Matt. What grade are you in?”

“Um…hi,” Ray said slowly, grabbing her hand briefly. As soon as she let go, he shoved his hand back in his pocket, fingers absently brushing against his GameBoy. “I’m…I’m in second grade.”

“Are you sharing a class with Chris and Caleb?” the other boy, Matt, asked. Ray lifted his head a little bit and looked at him. He had short dark hair and looked a little like Burnie, without the glasses.

Caleb nodded and answered, “Yeah. We all have Mrs. Webber this year. But how was your guys’ summer? Where’s Gus?”

“Summer was awesome. Kind of upset it’s over,” Burnie answered, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. “Gus is still on vacation. He told me they were gonna be coming back to town a couple days late, so he’s missing the first few days of school. Lucky jerk.”

The conversation turned to how their summers had been, who everyone had as a teacher this year, what these teachers were like, and what was going on with people Ray didn’t know. Ray sighed and pulled out his game again, slipping his headphones on and tuning them out. He’d kind of hoped that they might have been interested in talking to him, too, but after saying hi, no one tried to bring him into the conversation. So he kept to himself and looked at his game for entertainment, like always.

 ----- 

Geoff opened up the car door and stepped outside, adjusting his suit jacket self-consciously. All the other kids in the yard were wearing normal T-shirts, jeans, shorts, and jackets; he felt out of place for the first time in a long time, and he didn’t like it.

“Have a good day, Geoffrey,” Sheila said from the passenger seat, smiling at him. She pulled a check out from the car’s console and handed it to Geoff. “Here’s money for your lunches. Make sure it gets to the office, okay? I’ll pick you up after school.”

Geoff grabbed the check and tucked it into his pocket, then snatched his backpack up from the front seat foot well and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay. See you later, Sheila,” he said. Geoff lifted his hand in a quick wave and slammed the car door closed. The shiny sports car, itself rather out of place and conspicuous, pulled out to join the line of vehicles leaving the parking lot.

People nearby were staring at either Geoff or his family’s car, the children more than their parents. Geoff knew he kind of stood out, a kid in a suit surrounded by dirty minivans and kids in casual clothing, but he didn’t think anyone would care. No one ever had before.

Though admittedly, Geoff had always been around kids like him. This was new experience for everyone.

Geoff took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked purposefully into the school. It was so much different inside than the academy and Geoff paused in the doorway, taking a quick look around.

Everything was so brightly colored, from the banner hanging from the ceiling, to the wall displays made of construction paper and cut out cartoon figures, and the colored stripes painted on the white bricks. It was so much more cheerful and inviting than Geoff was used to. The academy hadn’t been decorated to please kids; it had been made to look nice and cultured, and the displays were mostly to show off the school’s money.

The halls were full of students and parents, and loud, happy chatter echoed off the walls. Geoff wormed his way between people, toward the open door with a sign over the top that read ‘office’. He almost ran right into a woman who was leading a boy around Geoff’s age by the hand, though the boy looked far from pleased with this development. Geoff quickly moved out of their way with a smile and apology, then slipped into the office as soon as the doorway was clear.

Like everywhere else, the little room was full and busy. Geoff tried to stay out of everyone’s way as he stepped up to the desk, but he still managed to almost get run over by an older man. Geoff scowled and pushed past him, stopping at the desk. One of the receptionists paused what she was doing and looked down at him in surprise.

“Well, good morning,” she said, a smile growing over her face. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah. You’re the person I give lunch money to, right?” Geoff said, sliding his check onto the desk.

“Yep. I can take that. Thank you,” the woman said cheerfully, grabbing the check. “You look very nice today, by the way. I really like your suit.”

“Thank you,” Geoff said automatically, pulling at his shirt collar self-consciously. The receptionist nodded and glanced down at the check as she turned to her computer. She paused, frowning, and turned back to Geoff. She was staring down at the check and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Geoff lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Is it not enough?” he asked worriedly. His parents had said this school wouldn’t need quite as much for food as the academy, but his parents had been sure it would be enough.

“Um, actually, it’s far more than you need,” the woman said. “Typically, students are sent with fifty dollars a month; not even five hundred dollars total. This check is for ten times that much. Are you sure your parents didn’t write it wrong?”

Geoff nodded, leaning on the desk. “I’m sure. They said it would work if they just cut my food money in half. Is that okay?”

“I…I think we can figure it out,” the woman answered, turning to her computer. “I’m going to give you a note to give your parents. We should be able to give them back whatever you don’t use this year.”

“Okay, thanks,” Geoff said, watching her scribble out a quick note. She handed it to him and he took it, shoving it into his pocket. He’d give it to Sheila when she came to pick him up later. He was about to say goodbye and leave when he was struck with another thought. “Oh, do you know where Mr. Cole’s room is?”

“Of course. At the end of the main hall, on the right,” the receptionist said, pointing toward the hall she was talking about. Geoff thanked her and turned around to worm himself between more people on his way to the classroom.

 ----- 

Michael slouched in his seat on the bus, staring absently out the window. The seat next to him was empty, and had been since they’d left the trailer park. One kid had actually changed seats so Michael could have it to himself. This had happened every day since Michael had started at Achievement Elementary, and it was still as annoying now as it was then.

It hadn’t taken Michael long to gain a bad reputation. A lot of kids called him a bully, which just upset Michael more. True, he had started lots of fights, and he sometimes ended up screaming bad words at people, but it wasn’t always because he was mad at _them_. Yelling and hitting just made him feel better for a little bit, and it sometimes gave him an excuse for the cuts and bruises.

No one really liked or understood that reasoning though, and Michael couldn’t tell them what happened at home, so he’d grudgingly accepted that he was always going to be avoided. But if everyone hated him already, there was no reason to keep from starting a fight. And Michael was feeling very much like hitting something.

The bus pulled up to the school and kids leaped up from their seats, crowding the aisle and shoving against each other in their eagerness. Michael stayed seated, waiting for the aisle to clear. He hated being shoved around by crowds, and he was pretty sure he’d end up getting hit in his aching side. Michael didn’t need the pain coming back.

Michael was the last one off the bus. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and the bus doors snapped closed behind him. He paused, staring at the activity in front of the school. A few kids gave Michael dirty looks but he did little more than flip them off as he started walking. One boy loudly complained about it to his parents but Michael ignored him. Parents never actually did anything when their kids complained.

Just as Michael was starting to push his way into the school, a kid from a small group near the doors stepped backward, his elbow slamming into Michael’s side. Pain flashed up from the fresh bruise and Michael shouted, grabbing at his side. The other boy spun around, eyes wide behind his glasses and dark hair peeking out from the hood of his purple hoodie.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the boy cried, clutching a GameBoy close to his chest. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“What the hell?” Michael snapped through clenched teeth, trying to shove down the pain and discomfort again. It was a lot harder when it got brought back up, because then Michael realized just how much it had been hurting, in the back of his mind. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” He shoved the boy away from him in irritation as he spoke, his side twinging uncomfortably. The boy stumbled back, tripping and falling on his butt, and he let out a small sound of surprise.

“Hey, leave him alone,” one of the older boys in the group demanded, stepping up to Michael’s face as a girl helped the boy in the hoodie up. “What’s your problem? He said he was sorry. You should apologize to him.”

Michael scoffed, glaring up at the older boy. The boy’s face was oddly distorted by the crack in the lens of Michael’s glasses, and it made it that much easier to not be intimidated by him. It was hard to be scared of someone who looked like they had three tiny, broken faces. “Why? It’s his fault,” Michael said angrily. He was rubbing and poking at his side again, trying to dull the pain again with more repeated abuse.

“He didn’t push himself down. Say you’re sorry,” the boy insisted, moving between Michael and the school’s entrance when Michael tried to brush past him.

Scowling, Michael looked at the boy in the hoodie and reluctantly spat out, “Sorry.” The younger boy stared at him nervously and then nodded, shrugging the girl’s hand off his arm and turning back to his GameBoy resolutely. He reached up into his hood to adjust his headphones and pulled his hoodie down over his face, obscuring his eyes.

The older boy stared at Michael, glanced at the hoodie kid, and then nodded slowly. “Fine. Leave the other kids alone, okay?” he said sternly.

Michael shrugged and pushed past him wordlessly, hurrying into the school. Today was going to be an interesting one. And not necessarily in a good way.

 ----- 

Jack sped down the road on his bike, jumping the curb from the sidewalk to the road and back again when either foot or road traffic got too heavy. A couple people hurried into the grass strip next to the sidewalk, and one car honked at him. Jack just waved apologetically and rushed on, worried about arriving too late.

With only one hand on the handlebars, his bike was a little shaky, but Jack couldn’t eat without hands. Crumbs spotted the front of his shirt from the piece of toast he’d been nibbling on every chance he’d had to move his hand away from the handlebars for more than two seconds. It wasn’t exactly a filling breakfast, and only toast was kind of boring, but he was already making a mess with plain toast. Jack had tried bringing jellied toast at one point, but that had ended up worse.

Jack waved at a bus that stopped to let him cross the street, and he jumped his bike over the curb and onto the sidewalk. “Excuse me. Behind you,” Jack called to a family that was taking up the whole sidewalk, and he veered off into the grass to avoid running into them when all they did was turn and look behind them.

The bike racks were pretty full by the time Jack brought his bike to a stop beside them. He had to scoot someone’s bike over as far as its chain would allow to shove his own into the small opening. A bike lock was wrapped around his bike’s frame and Jack unlocked it with a small key on his keyring, then fastened the bike to the rack.

Shoving the rest of the toast in his mouth, Jack took a moment to brush his shirt off and then adjusted his bag on his shoulders. The front of the school was starting to clear up, at least where parents were concerned. With the bell only minutes away from ringing and calling the start of class, most parents were saying their last goodbyes and leaving. The parking lot was emptying, and Jack was mostly surrounded by other kids at this point.

A few kids greeted Jack warmly as he walked past them, and he returned their greetings likewise, but no one really stopped to talk. A lot of people seemed to like him, but Jack had never taken the time to actually make friends. Kids would say hi, but that was about it, and it was what Jack was used to.

Jack wandered into the school, moving purposefully down the hall. He’d figured out who his teacher was as soon as the information was available, and he knew Mr. Cole’s room well enough. Last year Jack had been around the school a lot, offering to help teachers with work they needed done when he ran out of stuff to do in his own classroom. Mr. Cole had liked having him around, and Jack had spent a lot of time in the room.

The room was noisy and boisterous, full of children in little groups. A couple sat at desks, but for the most part, kids were standing or sitting on the desks, chattering. The walls were covered in colorful posters and cut outs. A bookshelf sat up front, next to the chalkboard, full of colored spines. A bank of cubbies covered one wall, beside the door that led out to the playground, but there was nothing in the cubbies except small cards with numbers on them. There were corresponding numbers on top of each of the desks. Mr. Cole’s desk sat near the door, and it was the one area that didn’t have a cluster of kids near it.

Mr. Cole looked up as Jack entered, smiling and lifting his hand in greeting, but he didn’t say anything. He was busy talking to another boy, a kid in a T-shirt and jeans who had his hands shoved in his pockets and a frown on his face. He seemed to be answering Mr. Cole’s comments and questions politely enough, but he didn’t exactly look happy.

Jack scanned the classroom for anyone he knew. Joel sat on top of a desk, surrounded by a few other kids who were laughing readily at one of his jokes. He was grinning like an idiot, basking in the attention. Griffon chatted cheerfully with a group of friends, idly doodling in her sketchbook as she spoke. Burnie and Matt came into the room behind Jack, and they were quickly hailed by Joel and brought into the group he’d formed.

For the most part, Jack knew everyone in the classroom, at least by sight. The boy talking to Mr. Cole was a new kid; Jack had never seen him around before. Otherwise, the only person who seemed out of place was the boy in a suit who sat at one of the desks, drumming a pencil against the tabletop and watching the other kids. His leg bounced rapidly and he pulled at his suit jacket constantly, adjusting little bits and pieces.

Jack sat down at one of the desks in the back, pulling his backpack off and setting it beside him. He unzipped it and pulled a beat-up paperback from it, opening the book up to its bookmark. He let the conversations buzz around him and he was content to sit there by himself and read. It had always worked out well for him in the past. Today was hardly going to be any different.

 ----- 

Gavin almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to the school. He was hot and sweaty and gross, and he was breathing heavily from the run, and he always got more clumsy when he was tired, but he didn’t let himself stop. He didn’t want to be late, not today. That would be kind of embarrassing.

The school almost looked empty by the time he rounded the corner and sprinted up to the doors, clutching at his backpack straps. There were a few kids still lingering outside, and one little girl was crying and refusing to let her parents leave, but Gavin assumed everyone else had gone inside already.

Once he was inside, Gavin slowed to a fast walk, panting heavily. He had underestimated how far he had to go to get to the school, since he’d only been told how to get there. At least he knew how far it was for next time, and maybe he wouldn’t be cutting his arrival so close.

Gavin took a second to pause, leaning against one of the walls, and he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It had a colorful map printed on it, with one of the classrooms circled in pen. “Mrs. Webber” was written above the circle and Gavin spun in place, trying to figure out where he was in relation to the classroom. A few kids in the hall looked at him strangely, and someone laughed when he spun in a full circle. Gavin just smiled at them and started walking. He’d find it eventually.

It took a few minutes of almost aimless wandering and trying not to look like an idiot before Gavin found the classroom. The door was wide open, and the room was full of kids Gavin’s age who were talking and laughing and running around. Desks sat in clusters in the middle of the room, and the walls were covered in bright posters and pictures. Hooks and cubbies lined one wall, and another wall was covered by shelves that held building blocks and art supplies.

Gavin wandered into the room as a bell rang loudly and echoed through the building, making Gavin jump with the suddenness of it. The other kids started quieting down and the teacher, an woman older than Gavin’s dad, moved up in front of the class.

"Okay, settle down, everyone,” she said with a smile, lifting her hands to get their attention. “Go ahead and put your bags on the hooks along the back wall and find your seats. Your names are on your desks. If you can’t find your name, come ask me.”

Kids started moving before she was even finished speaking, and Gavin joined the group around the back wall. He got pushed and jostled a little bit and he moved away as soon as his backpack was hanging with the others. It took a moment for Gavin to realize he was still wearing his sunglasses and he took them off, the room brightening significantly as he hung them from his shirt collar.

Gavin found his name written in big, block letters on a tag on one of the desks and he took a seat, grinning at the three boys that were in his little desk group. He got a couple smiles back, and Mrs. Webber continued with her greeting and introduction as everyone found their seats.

Gavin turned to look at the teacher as she spoke, fiddling with the glasses hanging from his shirt. He really hoped that this would be as good of a change as his dad said it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the support and interest in this story, everyone! It really means a lot!


	4. Making Friends

The day, perhaps inevitably, started with assigned seats. Mr. Cole had the class clear the desks, then started pointing out where to go. He moved down his list alphabetically by last name, and Geoff leaned back against the wall while he waited. With the last name ‘Ramsey’, he was always one of the last to be named.

Finally, after a boy named Jack sat down, Mr. Cole said, “Okay, and then Geoffrey.”

Geoff pushed himself off the wall and declared, “It’s just Geoff, actually.” Mr. Cole smiled and nodded, making a note on his paper like he’d done with a couple other kids. Geoff slid into his seat, playing with the numbered note card on the desk.

“James, you can take the seat behind Geoff,” Mr. Cole continued and Geoff turned to see the boy he’d almost run into sliding into the seat next to Mr. Cole’s desk.

“Can you just call me Ryan?” the boy asked tentatively and quietly, and he almost sounded like he was expecting to get in trouble for asking.

“Of course, Ryan,” Mr. Cole said, making another note. Ryan nodded to himself and sank down in his chair.

The morning progressed far differently than Geoff was used to. All his classes at the academy had been boring lectures and mind-numbing repetition that had started as soon as the very first bell rang. Talking in the classroom hadn’t been allowed unless called upon and the only conversation that was accepted was academic debate. All those rules and restrictions had driven Geoff insane, but Achievement Elementary didn’t seem to share these rules.

One of the first things Mr. Cole had them do, after everyone had their seats and all backpacks had been placed in the numbered cubbies, was an introduction. They went around the room and said their names and what they did that summer. Most kids talked about trips to national parks or to visit family. A boy named Joel seemed quite boastful about breaking his leg, but his was the one story that really stood out.

Jack, the boy sitting in front of Geoff, briefly described a day-long trip he took with his grandmother, and then it was Geoff’s turn.

All eyes turned to him and Geoff sat up straight, clearing his throat a little self-consciously. His summer hadn’t been quite as benign as everyone else’s, and it was strange. “My name’s Geoff, and my family went to Japan this summer,” he said, and a lot of the kids looked at him in surprise.

“What did your family go to Japan for, Geoff?” Mr. Cole asked and Geoff shrugged.

“My dad had to go for work. He thought it would be a good vacation, but it was kind of boring. Ireland was way cooler when we went there,” he said dismissively, and a few of the other kids started muttering to their neighbors in disbelief. And Geoff hadn’t even mentioned the other places he’d visited.

“Well that certainly sounds interesting. How about you, Ryan?” Mr. Cole said, looking at the boy behind Geoff, and Geoff turned in his seat to follow his gaze.

Ryan shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. “Um…hi,” he said slowly. “I’m Ryan and I…didn’t really do anything cool this summer.”

“I’m sure you did something interesting. I don’t know if it’s quite as exotic as Geoff’s vacation, but you must’ve had a little fun,” Mr. Cole said gently.

Ryan looked at the class and frowned, raising his shoulder in a shrug. “I…I went to the park?” he offered. One of the kids near the front, named Burnie, scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Everyone goes to the park. That’s not interesting,” he said dismissively. Ryan sank down further in his seat, looking down at his lap. Geoff scowled at Burnie, jabbing a finger at the other kid.

“Leave him alone,” he demanded. “Maybe he doesn’t get to go to the park as much as other people. I think it’s a cool thing to do in the summer.”

Mr. Cole frowned at both of them and said firmly, “Knock it off. Burnie, don’t be rude. Geoff, we don’t shout in the classroom. And I think it’s a cool thing for the summer as well, Ryan. That sounds like fun.”

Ryan nodded, smiled at Geoff, and leaned down to rummage around in his backpack. He was the only one who hadn’t put his stuff in his cubby, but Mr. Cole didn’t seem to care. A second later, Ryan pulled a rubber Halloween mask from the bag and put it on, hiding behind a black skull and crossing his arms over his chest. It made the timid kid look a little mean, and Geoff couldn’t help but smile at the sudden change.

“Do you need to leave, Ryan?” Mr. Cole asked gently, and Ryan shook his head quickly, sitting up in his seat. He looked a lot less nervous than he had before he put the mask on, even though Geoff couldn’t see his face anymore. Just his eyes, peering out from the large holes in the mask. “Okay. Feel free to step out if you need to. Now, let’s move on…”

Geoff wasn’t really paying attention to Mr. Cole, still looking back at Ryan. His smile turned into a grin and he offered his fist for a fist bump. “Cool mask,” he whispered. Ryan looked down at his hand and tilted his head. “Don’t worry; I got your back.” Ryan looked up at Geoff and down at his hand again and slowly rapped his knuckles against Geoff’s. Geoff chuckled, turned around, and started at least half-heartedly paying attention to the teacher.

Public school certainly was interesting.

 ----- 

Ray didn’t pay much attention to what was happening in the classroom most of the morning. He didn’t really feel like it. They did introductions and played a game to try and remember everyone’s names, but he participated as little as possible. He’d probably end up changing schools a few times throughout the year, and he’d hear it all over and over again. This school wasn’t anything special.

Finally, after a lot of talking that Ray didn’t listen much to, they were allowed to go outside for recess before lunch. He trailed after the rest of the class, pulling his GameBoy out of his pocket as he went. The yard was full of shouting and laughter, and most of the class ran out onto the playground. Ray sat down next to the door, settling against the wall and putting his headphones on. Barbara greeted him when she passed and he waved, but she didn’t stop.

Sighing, Ray turned his attention to his game, working on leveling up his Pikachu so he could beat the Elite Four. Someone sat down beside him and Ray frowned, looking over in confusion, battle music playing through his headphones.

One of the boys from Ray’s table group had settled down next to him, watching his game with interest. Ray was pretty sure his name was Gavin. He had seemed really happy and excited when they’d been talking in class, and if Ray remembered correctly, he’d said he’d just moved from England, which was why his voice was different.

“Whatcha playing?” Gavin asked, pulling a pair of sunglasses from the front of his shirt and putting them on. They were painted gold and looked way too big for his face.

“Pokémon,” Ray answered, turning the GameBoy so that Gavin could see the screen.

“Oh, cool. I have that game, too. It’s just not here yet,” Gavin said. “Can I see your Pokemon?”

Ray looked at him for a moment and nodded slowly, surprised that the other kid was so interested in what he was doing. “Um…yeah. Let me just…finish this fight,” he said, wrapping up the battle on the screen. Gavin watched while he did, and once Ray had beaten his opponent, he hesitantly passed the GameBoy over to Gavin.

Gavin grabbed it and started looking at Ray’s team, commenting on the various Pokemon he was using, and comparing it to his own team. Ray just listened to him, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. Gavin didn’t seem to mind the fact that Ray wasn’t answering; he was content to sit and talk without any prompting as he flipped through the menu.

It really was quite strange for someone to be sitting and talking to Ray, without any urging from adults. It hadn’t happened in a very long time, and he wasn’t used to it. But it felt good, having someone choosing to sit near him and being interested in things that Ray liked. So Ray decided to push his luck and attempt to be friendly.

“Do you...maybe want to battle when you have your game? I’d like to see your team, too,” Ray asked and Gavin’s face lit up.

“That would be top!” he said cheerfully, and Ray couldn’t help but laugh a little at the strange expression. “We definitely should! I could bring my game when it comes, and we can sit out here and play.”

The other boy’s excited chatter made Ray smile himself as he took the GameBoy back. “That would be fun,” Ray said.

“So how long have you lived here?” Gavin asked and Ray blinked at the question, looking down at the GameBoy while he saved his game.

“I’ve been in Achievement City all my life so far. But I just moved a couple months ago,” Ray said slowly. He didn’t exactly want to talk much about the move, and Gavin didn’t seem overly interested in prying further.

“I just moved here this week. I lived in England before,” he offered, and Ray shut off his game, realizing that Gavin’s conversation probably wasn’t going to stop. “It’s way different here. It’s so hot.” He frowned, looking up at the sky and adjusting his sunglasses on his face, since they’d been falling down his nose.

Ray laughed again, putting his GameBoy back in his pocket and hanging his headphones from his neck again. “Sometimes. I kind of like it, though. It feels good,” he said, playing with his hoodie strings absently.

Gavin opened his mouth to say something else when Chris and Caleb walked up to the two of them, standing over the pair, and Ray squinted up at them. The sunlight was reflecting off his glasses and blinding him at that angle.

“Hey. Gavin, right?” Chris said, ignoring Ray entirely. “Do you want to come play with us? You’re probably really bored sitting here with him.” Ray scowled, looking down at the pavement and hunching his shoulders up to his ears. He expected Gavin to agree and get up to go play with the other boys, but Gavin stayed where he was sitting, shaking his head.

“No. We’re talking about Pokemon,” Gavin said matter-of-factly and Ray looked at him, confused. No one normally preferred to stay with Ray when they were given another option. He didn’t know exactly what to think of this other kid.

Caleb scoffed and shook his head. “That’s weird. Why don’t you guys want to go play?” he demanded, pointing to the soccer field, where a group of kids had gathered for a kickball game. “And why do you talk funny?” The last question was added almost as an afterthought, and Gavin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest grumpily.

“I don’t talk funny. I talk normal,” he huffed. “And Pokemon is way cooler than kickball. I don’t get hit in the face with Pokemon.” The comment, and the grumpy tone to Gavin’s voice, surprised a giggle from Ray, and he pulled his hood up when Chris and Caleb frowned down at him.

“I don’t see what’s so cool about Pokemon. They’re just stupid little animal things,” Chris said. “You can’t even do anything interesting with them!”

“They’re really cool,” Gavin insisted, standing up and putting his hands on his hips, though he was smaller than both of the other boys. “They breathe fire or bring down lightning or…or shoot jets of water! It’s awesome, and you’re just boring.”

“Looks like you found another weirdo like you, Ray,” Caleb snorted, rolling his eyes at Gavin.

And then, before anyone could say anything else, another boy stomped up to the group and shoved Caleb, making him trip over Ray’s legs and fall to the ground.

\----- 

Michael didn’t know what to do when he got out onto the playground. No one wanted to play with him, and most people just avoided him wherever he went. He got a few rude comments and jeers when he went near someone, hoping to be able to play on the same equipment. He just wanted to hang from the monkey bars or swing for a little bit, but the kids on that equipment just yelled at him when he got near.

Eventually, Michael ended up just sitting in the wood chips, straining them between his fingers. His side was aching and he poked at it occasionally to try and get it to stop, but after that kid had hit him, it didn’t want to stop. It was uncomfortable and painful and he didn’t want to move because it would start hurting again, but he also didn’t want anyone to know he was hurting.

So Michael sat by himself, tearing apart the wood chips and watching the kids around him. No one even paid him much attention, only looking his way when they were moving around him so they didn’t step on him. Kids ran and laughed and played their games all around Michael, but not directly near him, and he scowled, tearing a wood chip apart viciously.

A growing argument nearby drew Michael’s attention and he looked over curiously. Chris and Caleb, two kids who had been in his class last year, stood over another two kids that were in their class. One of them was the purple hoodie kid that had run into Michael before, and the other was a small kid with big sunglasses.

“It’s awesome, and you’re just boring,” the smaller kid, Gavin he thought his name was, insisted loudly, getting up in Caleb and Chris’s faces. Michael pushed himself up and moved toward them. Chris and Caleb picked on kids even more than Michael was said to, though no one but Michael ever tried to stop them. And he didn’t think Gavin and the other kid (Ray?) deserved to be picked on.

“Looks like you found another weirdo like you, Ray,” Caleb snorted and Michael scowled, clenching his hands into fists and his side.

Michael stepped up behind Caleb and shoved him and he tripped over Ray’s legs, falling to the ground with a shout. Tears welled up in his eyes and he started crying, holding his scraped up hands to his chest while Chris turned around quickly to face Michael.

“Leave them alone,” Michael demanded, slamming his foot down on the ground to emphasize his words. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

“I’m telling a teacher,” Chris declared, pulling Caleb up and glaring at Michael as he led his friend away. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“So what?” Michael yelled as they hurried off to the nearest teacher. “I don’t care!” He glared at them as they left and turned to Gavin and Ray. Ray was rubbing at his leg, where Caleb had tripped over him, and Michael winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d get hurt.”

“Are you okay, Ray?” Gavin asked, crouching down beside the boy in the hoodie and looking at him in concern.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine,” Ray said quietly, looking up at Michael nervously. Michael rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip sheepishly.

“Um…I’m…I’m sorry. For yelling at you this morning. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, either,” he said, looking at Ray apologetically. “I was just mad. I’m sorry.” He knelt down in front of Ray, offering his hand. “My name’s Michael. Are you mad at me?”

Ray looked at his hand and slowly shook his head, reaching out to take his hand. “No… No, it’s okay. It didn’t really hurt,” he said, lowering his hood. His hair stood up everywhere because of the hood. “I’m not mad at you. Thank you. For getting them away. They’re jerks.”

Michael laughed and nodded, taking his hand back.

“Michael,” a teacher said sternly, marching up to him with Chris and Caleb trailing along behind, and Michael sighed heavily. “Come with me, Michael.” Michael groaned and stood up, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and trudging over to the teacher. They’d be going to the principal’s office again, and they’d have to call his mom again. She’d be angry when he got home.

But looking back at Ray’s tentative smile and Gavin’s big grin, he thought that maybe it would actually be worth it this time.

\----- 

Ryan spent the rest of the morning hiding behind his mask while Mr. Cole talked. He felt comfortable with the mask on. He felt like no one could get to him or bother him when it was on, and adults couldn’t tell what he was thinking like they could when it was off. No one was mean to him when it was on, at least not to his face, and he was okay with that.

Not to mention that no one could see his glares when the mask was on.

When recess came around, everyone left the room happily, but Mr. Cole stopped Ryan before he could follow after them. The teacher crouched down to his level, meeting Ryan’s eyes. “Is everything okay, Ryan?” he asked worriedly.

Ryan nodded, playing with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah. Everything’s okay. I just don’t want people looking at me right now,” Ryan said. Mr. Cole stared at his eyes for a moment and then nodded slowly.

“Okay. But remember, if things get difficult for you…” he started, and Ryan interrupted him.

“I know. I can go to Mr. Wolfe’s room. But I don’t want to,” Ryan sighed, looking out at the door to the playground. “Can I go outside now, Mr. Cole?”

His teacher nodded, moving out of Ryan’s way. “Go ahead. Let me know if you need anything,” he said, patting Ryan on the shoulder, and Ryan hurried out of the classroom. Being the nice, polite, perfect little kid was getting tiring, and he didn’t want to pretend to be happy all the time. He just wanted to go outside and run around and get rid of some of his annoyance without snapping and worrying someone.

To his surprise, Geoff was waiting outside the door for him, rocking back and forth on his heels. Ryan hadn’t expected him to even stand up for him earlier that morning, let alone wait around. In the last school Ryan was at, no one really wanted to be around him. Because his mom always had him in the special ed room, kids said he was ‘special’ and weird and they didn’t want to be associated with him. They treated Ryan like the slow kids that were in special ed, so even though Geoff had said he would be there to watch Ryan’s back, Ryan hadn't exactly believed him.

“There you are!” Geoff said cheerfully when Ryan came out. “Do you want to go play?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan said readily. He lifted his mask so Geoff could see his grin, but he held the mask tightly in his hands, ready to put it on again if he needed to. “What do you want to do?”

“We could play army, up in the playground,” Geoff said, pointing up to the play equipment. It was the tall, multi-layered, colorful kind of equipment Ryan was never allowed to play on. His mom was afraid he would fall off one of the platforms and hit his head.

But Ryan didn’t care what his mom wanted. She wasn’t here right now, and as long as he didn’t actually fall, she’d never know. “Sounds fun,” he said, and he started to go toward the playground, but Geoff put a hand on his arm and stopped him. Ryan looked at him, confused, to find Geoff staring at one of the other boys from their class.

He was a bigger boy, in a colorful shirt, and Ryan thought he’d said his name was Jack when they were talking before. Jack was sitting on the ground, against the school’s wall, with a book open in his lap and his glasses falling down his face.

Geoff stepped up beside him and Jack looked up when Geoff’s shadow fell over his book. “Hey. Do you want to come play with me and Ryan?” Geoff asked, pointing to Ryan and Ryan moved up next to him, looking at Jack curiously.

Jack looked between the two and he put his bookmark in his book. “You want me to play?” he asked incredulously, and Geoff nodded.

“Yeah. Come on, you can read in class. Recess is a time for fun!” Geoff declared, reaching down and snapping Jack’s book closed. Jack let out a sound of protest as Geoff took the book away, setting it aside. “Let’s go, come on, we’re playing army.”

Without waiting for an answer, Geoff grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Jack continued to protest, insisting he was fine, that’s okay, you guys go, but Geoff wasn’t taking that for an answer. With a hold on Jack’s arm, Geoff marched off toward the playground, dragging Jack with him.

“Come on, Ryan! Let’s have fun!” he said, and Ryan followed after them, smiling and shaking his head to himself. Geoff was certainly a different kind of kid, but Ryan liked it. It was already fun, and he felt like Geoff was definitely going to be keeping him busy.

It was an amazing change of pace.


	5. Lads and Gents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize for the delay in updating. Not only was I (half-heartedly) doing NaNo last month, but I was also caught up on writing Michael's part for the longest time. But I've finally gotten past it and I'm moving ever closer to bringing the crew together, and with any luck, updates will come far more frequently from now on.
> 
> That being said, sit back and enjoy the most recent chapter! And a quick thank you to everyone who's left comments or kudos. You all are the reason I keep writing this.

Michael slouched down in the hard wooden seat, the high back pressing against his neck uncomfortably. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his feet swung idly, his toes just brushing against the dirty looking carpet of the principal’s office. He was very purposefully avoiding meeting the eyes of anyone in the room, instead staring straight down at the floor.

The principal had given Michael the “you’re better than this, and you know why this is wrong,” speech that Michael had already heard multiple times in the past. After that, Michael’s mom had been called to come in and talk. Michael had desperately hoped that she would sleep through her phone ringing, and he’d just be sent to in-school suspension again. ISS was nice – it was quiet, and he could just spend the day doing absolutely nothing. Instead, his mom had answered, and she now stood beside him, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

“I’m sure you understand my concerns, Mrs. Jones,” Principal Newman sighed. “It’s only the first day of school, and from what I’ve been told, Michael has already been involved in two fights. I was hoping that the summer would give him some time to calm down and give him a better hold on this problem of his, but if this continues as it did last year, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask Michael to leave our school. His actions have become dangerous to himself, our teachers, and our other students.”

“Of course, Mr. Newman. I’ll talk to him and I will make sure this doesn’t continue when he comes back tomorrow. Right, Michael?” Michael’s mom said, squeezing his shoulder. He gulped and fought back a wince, knowing that showing any sign of pain to another adult outside the house would get his mom more upset with him. After all, what he went through wasn’t that bad – other people had it way worse, and he didn’t need to bother other people with it. That’s what his mom always told him.

“Yeah,” Michael muttered at the floor, refusing to look up at any of the adults.

“Michael, look up at your principal when you’re speaking to him, and tell Mr. Newman that you understand that you’ve done something wrong,” his mom said sternly, and Michael sighed but looked up.

Mr. Newman had his elbows resting on the desk and his fingers steepled near his face. He was balding and dressed in a suit that Michael was pretty sure he never changed out of – it always looked like the same one he’d worn every day for the last year. He had one eyebrow arched and looked at Michael with that annoying disappointed look that all adults seemed really good at doing.

“I understand, Mr. Newman,” Michael intoned, twisting the edge of his shirt in his hands. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I’ve heard that one before, Michael. Now I’d like to see an actual change,” Mr. Newman said sternly, frowning at Michael, who averted his eyes back down to the floor again. It wasn’t always Michael’s fault that he got in a fight. Other kids started it sometimes, too, but they never got in trouble just because they got scared and ran away. Michael was the only one who ever got in trouble, even when he was just protecting someone. It was stupid, and he had to remind himself not to say anything, so that all the adults didn’t get even more mad at him.

“Michael is free to return to school tomorrow if he is sure that he can control himself in the future,” Mr. Newman said to Michael’s mom. “I’m hoping this will be the last time we have to call you in and have this conversation, because I’m sure you’re just as tired of it as I am.”

“You have no idea,” Michael’s mom said with a forced pleasantness that Michael recognized, though no one else seemed to know that she was faking. “Don’t worry, Principal Newman. I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior from here on out. Come on, Michael, let’s go.”

Michael’s mom pulled him upright, fingers digging into his shoulder painfully, and Michael slid out of his seat wordlessly, letting her lead him from the room. “You are in a lot of trouble here, young man,” she muttered as they stepped into the empty hallway and Michael frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders.

He’d been in the principal’s office long enough that recess had come and gone, and pretty much everyone was in the cafeteria having lunch. Loud, cheerful chattering came from the lunch room, and it sounded very inviting and nice. Michael’s stomach rumbled and he put a hand over it, looking at the lunch room longingly as they passed. He’d probably be sent off to his room when he got home, and he wouldn’t have a chance to eat lunch. Maybe there was still a bag of chips somewhere on his floor…

They stopped at Michael’s classroom long enough for him to gather the few things from his desk, shove them in his backpack, and sling the bag over his shoulder. His mom waited in the doorway, and he could feel her eyes boring into his back as she watched him move around the room. “Let’s go, Michael,” she barked when he started dragging his feet, reluctant to go home and have the talk he knew was coming.

“Coming,” Michael said, hurrying over to her and following her out of the school. Like in the school, outside was empty, and it was also far quieter. With everyone inside, the only noise came from the cars crawling lazily down the road in front of the school and the birds chattering in the trees nearby.

Michael’s mom had parked near the front of the parking lot, her battered little car easy to pick out. The golden paint was peeling in multiple places, a large dent marred the back end, and the trunk was held down with a bungee cord so it didn’t fly up while they were driving. It took Michael a couple good yanks to pull the back door open, and it swung toward him quickly with a high-pitched squeal as the metal protested the movement.

Michael sank back in his seat, throwing his backpack in his lap and hugging it to his chest like a shield. He sat directly behind the driver’s seat, where his mom’s seat rested between him and her, and tried to pretend that she wasn’t there as he stared out the window into the parking lot.

His mom slid into her seat and slammed her door shut hard enough that the entire car shook and Michael jumped at the sharp crack of sound. “What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped as soon as she was situated, turning in her seat to glare at Michael over her shoulder. “I’m getting really fucking tired of getting woken up by calls from your god damn principal, Michael. And it’s not my fucking problem if you get kicked out of school – I’m not going to be bailing you out of trouble every damn time.”

“Sorry,” Michael muttered as soon as she paused for breath. Instead of continuing, she glowered and then violently clicked her seatbelt as she turned back around. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot quicker than she probably should have, and Michael scrambled for his seatbelt. It only took his mom a moment to get over her silent seething before she was shouting and hollering and cursing even more, and Michael listened in relative silence, throwing in the occasional apology when she paused so she knew he was actually listening.

Like always, he would try to be good, but it wholly depended on how the other kids acted. Even if it meant he had to deal with his mom, he didn’t want anyone else getting yelled at and picked on. Michael just hoped that today would finish quickly and he could run away to school tomorrow without too much trouble.

  -----

Later that day, when their teacher announced that it was time for lunch, Gavin stuck close to Ray, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach. He’d forgotten to see if his dad had left him money for lunch, and his stomach wasn’t happy with that realization. Without money, Gavin couldn’t eat, and he could only look forward to going home and scrounging up a snack when school was over. He also didn’t want to wander off and find somewhere to sit by himself, so he just ended up following Ray through the line.

“Aren’t you gonna grab a tray?” Ray asked, looking at Gavin in confusion and then smiling shyly at the lunch lady, pointing to the chicken nuggets laid out in front of her.

“I don’t have any money,” Gavin said quietly, a little embarrassed. Ray frowned and glanced down at his tray of food, and then shoved past Gavin and grabbed a new one from the stack at the front of the line, getting a couple annoyed complaints from the kids behind Gavin. He shoved it into Gavin’s hands, and Gavin fumbled it for a moment in surprise.

“You can’t skip lunch. I’ll give you one of my lunches,” Ray declared, moving down the line to get a pudding cup. Gavin stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened, and then the lunch lady was dropping chicken nuggets on his tray and he was being pushed down the line by his impatient classmates.

Ray waited for Gavin at the end of the line, where a bored-looking man sat in front of a computer. “I’m getting his lunch, too,” Ray said, pointing at Gavin. “I can do that, right?”

“Sure, but your parents will have to send you with money sooner,” the man said, and Ray nodded without a word, grabbing his tray and moving away. Gavin trotted behind him, the smell of the chicken nuggets making his stomach yell at him angrily again.

“Are your parents gonna be okay with you spending all your lunch money like that?” Gavin asked worriedly as they paused for a moment, looking for a free table. There were a few spots open, but they were at tables full of older kids, or near the two that had been making fun of Gavin and Ray earlier. Gavin really didn’t want to share a table with any of them, but then he saw one in the back corner that was nearly empty, and he headed that way quickly.

Ray shrugged, trailing along beside Gavin. “I don’t think Mrs. Denecour will notice,” he said dismissively, sliding onto the hard bench at the table beside Gavin.

Gavin tilted his head at Ray, nibbling on the end of a chicken nugget. “Is that what you call your mum?” he asked in confusion. He had a friend who called his parents by their first names, but he hadn’t heard anyone talk about their parents like Ray did before.

Shaking his head, Ray stabbed his pudding with his spoon, letting the snack hold his spoon upright like a flagpole. “She’s not my mom. I just live with her,” he muttered, hunching his shoulders and taking his spoon out only to repeatedly jab at the pudding, until little flecks started flying from the spoon and landing on his tray.

“Oh,” Gavin said, throwing his chicken nugget in his mouth and tearing open his milk carton. “Well…thank you, Ray. You’re a good friend.”

Ray glanced at Gavin out of the corner of his eye and froze with the spoon hovering over the pudding. A big clump of vanilla pudding fell from the tip of the spoon and splatted into the plastic bowl. “Really?” he asked slowly. “I don’t know…”

“Of course!” Gavin insisted, leaning forward on the table so he could see Ray’s face better. “You let me sit with you at recess, and you like Pokemon, and you bought me lunch. That means that we’re friends, right? And you’re the best!”

Ray smiled, finally eating the pudding that still stuck to his spoon. “Thanks, Gavin,” he said quietly, turning back to his tray and eating his food without tearing it apart.

Gavin scarfed down a couple more chicken nuggets and then looked around the lunch room, a sudden thought striking him. Ray was a really good friend, but he wasn’t the only one who was. Michael had been really great, too, helping them when those other kids were picking on them, but Gavin realized that Michael had never come back after the teacher took him away during recess.

His quick glance around the room told Gavin that no, Michael still wasn’t back, and Gavin frowned. He thought Michael would have come back by now – he wanted to really thank him for helping them, and he’d wanted to talk to the other boy like he’d been talking to Ray. But there was no Michael, and Gavin was a little concerned.

“Where did Michael go?” he asked, turning back around to Ray.

“I dunno. Why? He’s a bully,” Ray huffed, opening his milk carton and taking a drink. He paused with the carton still tilted toward his mouth and squinted his eyes, looking into the opening. “My milk froze. It takes like ice cream.”

Gavin grinned but then shook his head. “Michael’s not a bully. He helped us,” he insisted, and Ray snorted.

“Maybe that time. But he pushed me down and yelled at me earlier. He’s not very nice,” Ray said strongly, frowning at Gavin. “You don’t want to be friends with someone who pushes you.”

“I’m sure he was sorry,” Gavin pressed. “Mean kids don’t help people. He wouldn’t have stopped them from picking on us if he was that mean. We should try and talk to him and be his friend! Maybe he just wants to play with someone.”

While Gavin spoke, he gestured with his hands, until he threw them out and smacked against his milk. The carton flew from his tray, landing on the seat between them and exploding. Milk flew out and immediately spread across the seat, and Ray let out a shout and scrambled away. Gavin leaped to his feet, apologies flying from his lips as he grabbed the carton and looked down at the mess. The seat of his pants were wet with milk, and Ray’s sleeve was, too. There were even white spots on Ray’s glasses, and he took them off to inspect them.

“Gavin,” Ray complained, scooting further away and pulling his tray with him. “Now I’m all covered in milk.”

“Sorry, Ray!” Gavin squawked, and quite a few kids nearby were chuckling or downright laughing as Gavin hurried over to the napkin holder and pulled out handfuls of napkins to clean it up. Gavin threw down the napkins on the bench and the floor, watching them soak up the milk spill. Ray snatched a couple of them that weren’t wet yet and tried to clean up his hoodie sleeve.

One of the teachers came over to their table, looking down at the spill with an arched eyebrow. “Are you boys alright?” she asked, looking between them, and Gavin nodded quickly.

“I knocked over my milk. I’m sorry,” he said, lifting the edge of the napkin pile to see if the milk was gone from the bench. It was still wet and runny – not very much of it had actually soaked up into the napkins he’d brought.

“It’s okay. Accidents happen. Here, let me help, and then we should get you two cleaned up,” the teacher said kindly, kneeling down beside Gavin and actively cleaning up the spilled milk. Gavin smiled slightly and thanked her, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at them and still laughing, a little quieter now.

He was certainly making an interesting first impression at the new school.

 ----- 

The end of the school day couldn’t come fast enough for Geoff. Recess had been fun – him and Jack and Ryan had banded together to fight off the other evil army that had been trying to overrun their base. Ryan had moved very carefully across the playground equipment, and he had refused to climb up on the monkey bars so that he could be the lookout, and it took Jack a little bit to understand the game, but it had still been really fun.

Class, however, was really boring. It wasn’t as strict and structured as classes had been at the academy, and it was almost ridiculously easy. Geoff ended up doodling in the margins of his notebook for most of the day, sketching out nonsense designs while Mr. Cole walked them through the introduction for the different subjects they’d be covering that year.

Geoff, Ryan, and Jack had eaten lunch together, too, and Geoff tried to rope Jack into a conversation during class afterwards, but Jack had pointedly ignored him. It had gotten to the point where Geoff was bored enough that he’d taken to prodding Jack with the eraser of his pencil to get his attention, until Jack had snatched it out of his hands and hidden it in his pocket without even turning around.

Finally, after Mr. Cole wrapped up the day by reading a chapter out of a book out loud to the class, they were told that they were free to go home. Geoff leaped up from his seat, going to grab his backpack eagerly, alongside most of the other students. He shoved people aside so he could be the first one to get his things and leave, but then he paused outside in the hall, looking back in. Jack and Ryan had both hung back to wait to get their things, and Geoff decided he’d wait for them. He’d be a bad friend if he just left them alone. Besides, Sheila probably wasn’t there yet anyway. He had time to kill.

Jack left the classroom, but Ryan didn’t follow, and Geoff caught sight of him talking to Mr. Cole again. Throughout the day, the teacher had been talking to Ryan alone, and Geoff kind of wanted to know what it was about. Ryan didn’t look very happy to be talking to Mr. Cole again, and he was inching closer and closer to the door while also nodding along as if he were listening attentively.

It seemed like Mr. Cole took the hint after a moment, because he smiled, clapped Ryan on the shoulder, and gestured to the door. Ryan left the room like a shot, nearly running right into Geoff in his haste to leave.

“Careful, Ryan!” Geoff said, stepping out of the way quickly to avoid colliding with his new friend.

“Sorry,” Ryan said sheepishly, straightening his backpack on his shoulders.

“That’s okay,” Geoff said, waving his hand dismissively, before he grinned at the two of them. “Hey, would you guys like to come to my place and play some more? I’ve got a lot of things that we can do, and we could see if you could call your parents in the office and see if it’s okay. It’d be fun!”

Ryan frowned and shook his head, staring down at the floor and scuffing the toe of his shoe against the tiles. “No… I can’t. My parents don’t like me going over to people’s houses unless they know everyone there. And then they have to come along, too,” he muttered.

“I can’t either. I need to go home and do some chores, and we have homework,” Jack pointed out, and Geoff scoffed.

“We have five math problems! How long is that really gonna take? Come on, Jack, please?” Geoff pleaded, but Jack shook his head resolutely.

“Maybe another day? I really have a lot to do today,” Jack said stubbornly, and Geoff sighed heavily as they stepped out of the school. Kids littered the front lawn, like they had that morning. Most of them were lined up in marked sections where the buses would pull up, but other kids were waiting around for parents to inch their way through the crowded parking lot to pick them up.

“Fine,” Geoff said reluctantly. “Maybe we can play tomorrow after school?”

“Only if my parents come over,” Ryan repeated, looking up at the cars that were filing along the sidewalk.

“That’s weird,” Geoff said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t know if they can meet my parents for a while… Would meeting my nanny count? She’s the only one who’s ever home with me anyway.”

Ryan lifted an eyebrow, a small smile coming to his face. “You have a nanny? I didn’t think those were real,” he said, and Geoff could hear a laugh building in his throat.

“They are real, and Sheila is cool,” Geoff said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least Sheila would let me go over to friends’ houses without wanting to tag along.”

Ryan’s smile disappeared, replaced with a frown again, as he returned to surveying the cars. “I see my dad. I gotta go,” he said abruptly, trotting away to meet up with a man standing on the sidewalk, waving at him.

“Maybe we can play later,” Jack offered with a smile. “But we’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Geoff? And we can definitely play then.” With that, he waved and hurried off to the bike racks to unlock his bike.

“Okay,” Geoff sighed, wandering down the sidewalk, hoping to find something to do until Sheila came. He’d been hoping that the new friends he’d made would want to hang out with him, since they seemed a lot cooler than the kids he’d had school with the past few years, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that they were busy.

A conversation between a couple kids caught his attention as Geoff wandered past and he paused mid-step, listening. “Nuh-uh. Your Magikarp couldn’t kill anything. They can’t even fight!” one of the kids insisted loudly.

“Yeah they can. They can struggle. That does damage. You’d die so fast against my Magikarp, cause he never has any moves,” the other said firmly, and Geoff smiled to himself, turning to look at them.

Geoff had noticed the two kids earlier that day, in the cafeteria. They were the ones that had spilled milk earlier and had to have a teacher come around to help them. The little kid in the blue shirt had been very loud, and his screeching had surprised Geoff and made him almost drop his pudding cup. It looked like they had cleaned themselves up pretty well, though, since neither of them was covered in milk anymore.

The two of them had their backs turned to Geoff, and they seemed to be quite interested in their debate. So he ended up making both of them jump when he chimed in, “But what if you have to take your Pokemon to the Pokemon Center? Magikarp won’t be as good anymore.”

Both of the little kids turned around to face him, eyes wide with surprise, but the one in the purple hoodie recovered first. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged one shoulder. “I just have lots and lots of potions. And he never dies,” he declared, smiling proudly.

“But what if he does die?” the other kid jumped in quickly. “Then you’d give him all his moves back and you’d have to use splash over and over again until it’s gone.”

“Then I fight lots of random Pokemon until he runs out of moves again,” the kid in the hoodie answered quickly, and Geoff laughed.

“I guess that’s a plan,” he said, offering his hand to them. “Hi! I’m Geoff.”

The kid in the hoodie looked down at his hand, slowly lifting his own as if he were suspicious of Geoff, but his friend snatched Geoff’s hand quickly and shook it eagerly. “Hi, Geoff! My name’s Gavin! He’s Ray,” he said cheerfully, pointing to his friend, who frowned at Gavin and hunched his shoulders up to his ears.

“I can tell him my own name!” he complained. Before anyone could say anything else, two other boys came up beside Ray, and him and Gavin froze, looking at them warily.

“Hey, my mom’s waiting for you. Come on, I want to go home,” one of the new boys said, pointing down the parking lot to one of the many cars.

Ray sighed, his attention falling to the ground. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Bye, Gavin. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He glanced up quickly, looking at Gavin almost desperately, and Gavin nodded. “Bye, Geoff.”

Ray followed the two boys over to the car and Gavin sighed, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders. Geoff watched Ray and then looked back at the other little kid. “Do you have to go home, too?” he asked, looking around at the other cars to see if Gavin would go toward one of them.

“Not really?” Gavin said slowly, shrugging. “My dad’s not home right now, and I don’t have to do anything. But I don’t have anything else to do.”

Geoff smiled, looking at Gavin hopefully. “Do you want to come to my house and play some games?” he asked, holding his hands behind his back and crossing his fingers. It had been a long time since he’d had someone fun to play with, and he had just met Gavin, but Geoff thought that this little kid had to be at least a little cool if his conversation was anything to go by. And Geoff would just be lonely at home alone anyway.

Gavin grinned widely as he grabbed sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and shoved them on his face. The plastic gold rims were too big for his face, and he looked kind of funny, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Sure! That sounds like fun!” he said, and Geoff grinned back, relaxing.

“Cool! Sheila should be by to pick me up soon, and you can try to call your dad from my house. I have lots of games and toys and things. It’ll be fun!” he said eagerly, and Gavin’s grin just spread in reply. Maybe Geoff could get used to public school – it wasn’t turning out too badly so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I created an ask blog for the Fake AH Kids over on Tumblr, at askfakeahkids.tumblr.com if you guys want to check it out!


	6. After School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize real quick for the wait, but December was a hectic month. I had a lot of other projects that needed to be completed first, so this kind of got shoved to the side. But hopefully, with more time to write, I'll be able to do so more.
> 
> Also, thanks for all the support you guys have shown me, both here and on Tumblr through my ask blog (askfakeahkids, if you don't know of it). I love you guys! Now, on to the chapter, and I hope you enjoy.

Gavin couldn’t believe his eyes when Geoff had pointed out the flashy, colorful sports car that had pulled up in front of the school and he said that was their ride. Gavin had gawked, open-mouthed, as it stopped in front of them and a woman climbed out of the driver’s side. Gavin had never before seen a car like this one except as toys in the shops, and it was even cooler when it was big and full-sized.

Geoff had explained that Gavin was coming over to play, and the woman, Sheila, had seemed to be okay with it. She had smiled and greeted Gavin (he had only managed a faint “Hi…” in reply, still too distracted by the car to be paying full attention), and then she’d opened the back door of the car for the boys to get in.

The car ride took them to the edge of the city, and Geoff and Gavin spent the entire time talking and joking around. Gavin told Geoff all about England, and his mum and brother who were still over there, and the things he used to do with his friends. He’d talked about his dad’s new job with the FBI, and how his dad was out there catching bad guys for Achievement City because he’d been really good at it back in England, even though Gavin didn’t see him much now.

Geoff didn’t talk much about his family or what he normally did, fielding most of Gavin’s questions with a quick, “You’ll see,” before he changed the subject. But he participated fully in Gavin’s conversation, asking questions and lightly teasing Gavin for stories he told or words he used that Geoff didn’t.

Talking to Geoff was nice, since he was actually interested in what Gavin had to say, and he seemed to like talking to Gavin, too. Though Gavin completely forgot about any kind of conversation when the car pulled off of the main road and onto a private gravel drive.

The car stopped for a moment, and it was that that got Gavin’s attention. They sat in front of a big gate, and Sheila punched in a number in a keypad next to the driver’s side window. As soon as she hit enter, the gates swung open, and Gavin scooted closer to the window to stare out, eagerly waiting for the first glimpse of Geoff’s house.

The drive twisted and meandered for a little bit, trees and flower bushes lining the small road, and it was more greenery than Gavin had seen since he’d moved. Finally, they rounded another bend and the trees opened up, revealing Geoff’s house.

“Wow,” Gavin whispered, staring at the building in awe. It was a big house, bigger than any Gavin had even heard of. It was two stories tall, with a tower at the back that went up another floor, and it stretched out really far in both directions. The windows and front door were huge, and the front was covered in more flowers, while a fountain bubbled cheerfully in the middle of the circle the driveway made in front of the door. Gavin could only think that it looked like a castle out of a storybook, and he couldn’t believe anyone lived there at all. “It’s so big!”

Geoff chuckled and Gavin turned to him, a grin spreading quickly across his face. Geoff rubbed the back of his neck and nodded, looking up at the house as well. “Yeah… It is kinda big, huh?” he said as the car pulled to a halt in front of the stairs leading up to the door.

“It’s massive!” Gavin said, snatching up his backpack and following close behind Geoff when his friend hopped out of the car. “How many people live here?”

“Um…it’s me, my parents, and Sheila most of the time. The groundskeeper and the cook stay here sometimes, and there’s lots of room for visitors and the people that come for my parents’ parties, but it’s normally kind of empty,” Geoff said, pushing the front door open and standing aside to let Gavin enter first.

Gavin entered the house, mouth agape and eyes wide. It was impossible to take everything in at once, and he found himself looking quickly from one thing to another in an attempt to see it all. The entrance was as big as everything else Gavin had seen so far, stretching all the way up to the roof. A few comfy chairs were placed there, surrounded by potted plants and pictures and little statues. He could see the second floor from here, where the hallway opened up in a balcony above the entrance, and a chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

“Do you need to call your dad?” Geoff asked, following anxiously behind Gavin and closing the door behind the two of them.

Gavin shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll be back any time soon. But I should probably call our neighbor so she knows where I am…” he said slowly, pulling his backpack off and dropping it on the floor so he could dig through it. His dad had shoved a list of emergency numbers inside, just in case – the neighbor lady, the line where Gavin should be able to reach his dad, the numbers for the fire department, police, ambulance, and emergency services in general, and how to call his mum if he wanted to (but that was for something more important than just saying hi).

“We have a phone right over here you can use,” Geoff said, leading Gavin to a corner of the large room, where a small table sat against the wall holding only a phone. Gavin dragged his bag over and dropped it against the table, making it shake, and he winced at Geoff apologetically when the phone rattled with the impact. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a shitty table anyway.”

“Okay,” Gavin said with a small smile, a little surprised that Geoff had actually sworn. Did his parents let him say bad words like that all the time? Gavin’s parents would get real upset if he said stuff like that.

Gavin carefully dialed the number his dad had written down, and it rang for a minute before going to voicemail. Shrugging, Gavin left a quick message telling her who he was and where he was, and he wouldn’t be around his house for a while. He didn’t know what number to tell her to call him at if she had to, but then Gavin brushed it off since she was only babysitting him and wasn’t actually his parent, so he figured it didn’t matter much anyway.

As soon as Gavin was finished leaving his message, he hung up the phone and scooped up his bag, throwing it on his shoulders and grinning at Geoff eagerly. “So do you wanna play?”

Geoff grinned back, gesturing for Gavin to follow and moving quickly through the large house. “Yeah! Come on, I’ll show you my room,” he said, and Gavin hurried to keep up with his longer strides.

They went upstairs, and Gavin froze in the doorway of Geoff’s room, gawking. The room was huge, bigger than his dad’s room at their house, maybe even with Gavin’s room attached. It was very clean, and packed full of toys and electronics and awesome things hanging from the walls and ceilings. Gavin thought it looked like a toy store with a bed in the middle.

“Wow!” Gavin exclaimed, dropping his bag by the door and rushing inside, moving toward the totes of toys stacked up against a wall. Boxes of Legos, army men, Hot Wheels cars, action figures, race tracks, Lincoln Logs, board games, and so many more toys were stacked up a little higher than Gavin. He looked around and spotted the bookshelf full of video games, hurrying past a smiling Geoff to take a look. 

“Oh, man, you have so many games! This one hasn’t even come out yet!” Gavin exclaimed, grabbing one of the cases from the shelf and turning it over in his hands. “Oh, wow, is that a special edition GameCube? I saw this in a shop once, but it was lots of money and my mum said I couldn’t get it…”

Geoff chuckled, stepping up next to Gavin to grab a couple GameCube controllers from a shelf nearby, where the cords were nicely wrapped and twist tied together. He undid the ties and plugged in the controllers, plucking the game from Gavin’s hands.

“Come on, Gavin. Let’s see if you can beat me even once,” Geoff challenged, shoving a controller into Gavin’s hand as he booted up the television and the system. He flopped on his bed, the cord stretched loosely between him and the GameCube, and Gavin narrowed his eyes.

“I’m gonna win every single match, just you watch,” he declared, climbing up on the bed beside Geoff, watching the screen eagerly. This definitely beat sitting around at home doing nothing all evening.

\------

When Jack got home, the house was silent, and he set his backpack down quietly, moving down the hall to his grandmother’s room. He peeked inside to find her in bed, still wearing the same clothes she had been when he’d left, and fast asleep. Jack closed her curtains and turned out the light on her nightstand, darkening the room. Her book was open on her chest and he closed it, setting it aside, and he moved her glasses from the edge of the mattress so they didn’t fall and break.

As soon as Jack thought she was more comfortable, he grabbed the empty breakfast tray from beside her and slipped out of the room, closing the door most of the way behind him. He took the tray into the kitchen and unloaded it, washing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher and then wiping down the tray itself. The tray was returned to where Jack got it, and then he started looking through the fridge and cabinets to see what they needed.

Most kids, when they came home from school, would sit down and relax and watch TV or play some video games or something. Jack, however, had too much to do. It was four, and he still had to get groceries, take out the trash, clean up the kitchen and living room, start on the reading assignment Mr. Cole had given them, make dinner, make sure his grandma got up and at least changed pajamas, and shower before he went to bed early so he could get up for his paper route.

Jack scrounged up a piece of paper to jot down what they needed, and then he grabbed the spice jar full of the money he’d made and the credit card sitting nearby. His grandma would have just gotten her social security money sent into her account, and he’d probably need it to get her prescriptions refilled.

Digging his keys out of his pocket, Jack left the house and locked the door behind him. The credit card was slipped into a pocket, and he dropped the spice jar with its money in his bike’s basket. The grocery store was only a few blocks away, and Jack took off down the road, leaning forward on the handlebars to go faster. He wanted to get back before his grandma woke up, so she didn’t worry about him.

Jack leaned into the turn as he rounded a corner and he nearly ran into a group of kids on the sidewalk in front of him.

Shouting, Jack slammed on the brakes, his back tire skidding and fishtailing before he stopped, his bike sitting sideways across the sidewalk. Cars raced by, the road inches from Jack’s front tire, and he let out a sharp breath. At least no one had gotten hurt.

Jack slowly backed up and turned his bike back onto the sidewalk correctly, adjusted his glasses on his face, and looked up at the kids he’d almost hit to ask if he could slide past them real quick. The words didn’t even leave his throat as he met the sneers of the group in front of him. Jack grimaced and snapped his mouth closed, slowly inching away from the three.

They were older kids, middle schoolers that lived in the neighborhood, and they didn’t like Jack. He didn’t know why they didn’t like him – Jack had done nothing to these boys, and yet they bothered him every time they saw him.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Jack muttered, gripping his handlebars tightly. “Can I just get around you guys real quick? I need to get my grandma’s medicine.”

The biggest kid, a boy who had a buzz cut that made his head look like a soccer ball, scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You tried to run us over,” he accused loudly, and Jack warily watched his two friends moving around Jack’s sides.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack insisted, propping his foot up on the pedal and looking for a way past the older kids. He had a bike, and they were just on foot. If he tried really hard, he could normally lose them within a couple blocks. They just had to move.

“What you meant to do doesn’t matter, grandma’s boy. You should apologize,” Buzzcut demanded, stepping closer, and Jack scooted backwards a little bit using one foot.

“Okay. I’m sorry for almost running you over,” Jack said without hesitation. He really did feel bad for almost hitting them, and he didn’t mind apologizing for something he actually did do. Especially if it made them leave quicker. “Can I please go past you now?”

Buzzcut tilted his head back and forth, considering, but before he could answer, one of the other kids exclaimed, “Hey, what’s this?” He grabbed at the spice jar in Jack’s basket and Jack tried to snatch it away, but the older boy backpedaled and Jack nearly toppled over with his bike in his haste.

“Give that back!” Jack cried, swinging his leg off his bike and letting the bike clatter to the ground as he stormed up to the bigger boy. The boy grinned and tossed the jar in one hand, and as soon as Jack could grab it, it was thrown to Buzzcut. 

Jack spun toward Buzzcut and hurried over to him, reaching out for the jar, but Buzzcut just threw it to his other friend. They passed it between themselves, throwing it over Jack’s head as soon as Jack got close. Jack even tried to predict who it would be thrown to and wait to intercept it, but then it would just be tossed to someone else. The three older boys seemed thrilled with this game, but Jack was just desperate to get his jar back. He’d made all that money working every single morning, and he needed it.

One of the other boys threw it to Buzzcut, but this time he fumbled the jar and it fell. Jack shouted as the jar smacked into the sidewalk and shattered, ceramic pieces flying out and dollar bills scattering in the breeze.

“Well, that was fun,” Buzzcut laughed, as Jack scrambled to gather the loose money before he lost it all. “Let’s go, guys.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw his bike move, and his head snapped up. One of the boys was lifting the bike from the ground, and he swung his leg over it to ride it. “Hey, that’s mine!” Jack shouted, grabbing for the bike, but the kid just kicked at his hand. The shoe smacked solidly into Jack’s knuckles and Jack snatched his hand back quickly, cradling it to his chest.

The boy pedaled away quickly, Buzzcut and their other friend running along beside him, laughing and throwing taunts back at Jack.

Jack hunched his shoulders and worked on collecting his money. His hand throbbed, and he had to watch a few of his bills get swept up under the wheels of cars and whisked away before he could grab them. Tears prickled at his eyes but Jack shook his head firmly, fighting them back. No bully was going to make him cry, no matter what.

\-----

“So how was school?” Ryan’s dad asked when he climbed into the back seat of the car, tossing his backpack into the seat next to him. Ryan got himself settled in his seat, clicking his seatbelt into place, and he met the eyes of his dad in the rearview mirror.

“It was good,” Ryan said, plastering a smile on his face. Really, it had been one big annoyance. Mr. Cole hadn’t stopped checking to make sure he was okay, and comfortable, and that he didn’t need any help, and maybe he should go see Mr. Wolfe if he was feeling overwhelmed. He’d been placed right next to the teacher’s desk, just in case he needed anything while they were working, even though he didn’t go there in the alphabet. A lot of the kids in class had also thought it was weird that he wore a mask, but Ryan loved it. Adults always seemed to think they knew what he was thinking about, but they stopped doing that when he wore the mask.

Though Jack and Geoff had been pretty cool. But Ryan was pretty sure they were the only good things about the first day of school.

“Was it?” his dad asked, slowly pulling out of the parking lot behind everyone else. “Did you learn anything interesting?”

Ryan shrugged, settling back in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap. “Not really. Mr. Cole mostly just went over stuff we learned last year,” he said, staring out the window as they finally got out of the parking lot and got moving.

“Well hopefully in the next day or two your class will start learning something new,” Ryan’s dad said cheerfully. Ryan nodded, though he wasn’t really all that interested in the conversation. They were talking about school. No one could find that conversation interesting.

They drove in silence for a moment before his dad spoke up again and Ryan looked back around at him. “So, James, did you make any friends?” his dad asked slowly, almost carefully, and this time Ryan’s grin was genuine.

“I did!” he said enthusiastically. “There are two kids in my class, Geoff and Jack, and we ate lunch together and played together at recess.” Ryan was practically vibrating in his seat with excitement, happy to share something real and fun with his parents. Even though he was annoyed with Geoff for making fun of his family’s rules, he was still happy they hung out all day.

Ryan also just really wanted his parents to see that he was just like everyone else, and he could make friends, too, and he could do everything other kids could. Having a real, true story to tell just made it that much better.

Ryan’s dad lifted an eyebrow, chuckling a little in surprise. “Wow. Did your mom give you the right stuff this morning?” he said lightly and Ryan frowned, forcing himself to sit still. It sounded like his dad was joking, but Ryan knew he wasn’t. He’d found that out pretty quickly in the past. “So what did you and your new friends do at recess?”

“We played pretend,” Ryan said carefully, making sure his words were calm and clear and he didn’t seem hyper at all. Hyper meant more pills, to make him calm down. Hyper was bad.

“Oh, yeah? What did you pretend to be?” Ryan’s dad asked with interest and Ryan paused.

“We…we were…we were zoo animals,” Ryan said, grabbing at the first thing that came to mind. “I was a monkey.” There was no way he’d tell his parents that he played army, and up on all the tall playground equipment at school, shooting bullets out of stick guns and throwing wood chip grenades. It was all way too violent for them, and Ryan really didn’t want his dad to turn around and go to the therapist’s office.

“Well that sounds like fun,” Ryan’s dad said, and his eyes crinkled up in a smile. “I’m glad you made some friends today, sport. It sounds like you had a good, safe time.”

Ryan nodded, looking back out the window at the trees and houses trailing lazily by. He just wished he could have kept playing with Geoff after school, but he didn’t even want to bring it up with his dad just yet. Not until he knew that Geoff actually had parents his could meet.


	7. Parental Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been a while since I've updated, and I feel bad for it. There's just been a lot of shit going on IRL that's required my attention and kept me from really having the motivation to write. BUT the story is not abandoned, and I offer you all another chapter. Enjoy.

Ray curled up beneath his blankets, and it was really hot and heavy, but he didn’t want to come out. His hood was pulled up over his head, and the blankets had been pulled up over that, making it so Ray was wrapped in a comforter cocoon. His glasses lay on the pillow nearby, and tears built up in the corners of his eyes, but Ray refused to actually cry.

Crying wasn’t good. No one would ever want a little kid that cried all the time.

Even though Ray wasn’t letting himself cry, his nose was runny and stuffy, and he kept sniffling. Percival, his stuffed cheetah, was tucked up under his chin and Ray wiped at his head to make sure he wasn’t getting all snotty. But Percival was nice and clean and comforting. Percival was very good at making Ray feel better. He was a good friend.

Downstairs, Ray could hear the other kids running and playing and shouting. Even if he’d wanted to join the other two boys in their game, Ray wasn’t allowed to. He was grounded, and he’d been sent up to his room for the rest of the day. No TV, no toys, no games. Even his GameBoy had been taken away, and that was what upset Ray the most. That GameBoy was one of his favorite things, besides Percival, and it had been a present from one of the nicest families he’d stayed at.

But Mrs. Denecour had taken is as part of his grounding, as punishment for something that Ray hadn’t even done.

When he and Chris and Caleb had been picked up from the school, the other two boys had happily started chattering about their day and what they had done. Ray had let them talk, settling quietly in the back seat and watching the town move past out the window. He had kind of wanted to mention Gavin, his new friend, but he didn’t want to interrupt the other two boys or talk too loudly over them.

Besides, he didn’t know if Gavin would stay his friend for long, and Ray didn’t want to tell anyone about something that might not be true in a couple days. If anyone in the car would even care. Not many people did.

On the way to the daycare to pick up the other two kids, Ray had paid little attention to the energetic conversation in front of him. At least, until he’d heard his name.

“…Ray and his friend if they wanted to play, but Ray got angry and mean, and he told Michael to push Chris,” Caleb had insisted.

Ray had protested, since Caleb wasn’t telling the truth, wasn’t saying what they had actually done at recess, but his words had been drowned out beneath Chris loudly trying to corroborate the story. Ray had listened, frustrated and upset, as the other two boys made it sound like he had been the one being mean to them and not the other way around, but he didn’t want to speak up any louder.

Kids that raised their voices, that fought and argued and spoke out against the wanted kids – the ones that actually were part of the families, the ones that were supposed to be there – those kids didn’t get adopted. They didn’t get to be parts of families like these other kids were. That’s what Ray had been told, and he was so scared it might be true, that he didn’t let himself talk above a normal “inside voice”, even though the other two were yelling over him, and even though he should’ve made sure Mrs. Denecour knew what really happened.

It had been almost another half hour before they got home, and when they did finally pull up to the house, Mrs. Denecour had asked Ray to wait for her in the dining room. So while Chris and Caleb ran off to play a game, and Mrs. Denecour unloaded the other two from the car, Ray had perched on the edge of a dining room chair, waiting with his stomach twisting itself in knots.

Ray hadn’t even been given a chance to tell his side of the story. He had never been asked, and Ray thought it would be rude to try and make himself heard if Mrs. Denecour didn’t want to hear him. Besides, no one liked it when he told them that their actual kids did something wrong. He didn’t think this would’ve been different.

Instead, Mrs. Denecour had a stern conversation with him about how she wasn’t going to allow anyone living in her house to bully someone else. She told Ray that hurting someone else was bad, even if he didn’t do it himself and instead had someone else do it. She said she didn’t want to hear about Ray spending time with Michael or Gavin, who Chris and Caleb had said had encouraged all of it. The talk had wrapped up with Mrs. Denecour announcing that Ray was grounded for the next week, in the hopes that he would understand that what he did was wrong, and she had told him that he couldn’t even have his GameBoy. Little boys who couldn’t play nice weren’t allowed to have nice toys, as far as she was concerned.

Now Ray could only listen as the other kids ran and played, and it sounded like a normal day, while he was stuck up in his room with only Percival to keep him company. He wasn’t allowed to have the one thing that made his days interesting and good, and he wasn’t supposed to be around the friend he had just made.

Ray just hoped the rest of the school year would end up better than the end of his first day.

\----- 

Michael had grown very used to the hospital over the last few years.

The waiting room in the ER was beginning to feel familiar. Hard chairs sat in short rows, near tables stacked with well-thumbed magazines. A small area had been set aside for children, full of worn and fading toys that had been handled my many bored and anxious kids. A few television sets were playing, mostly news stations, but there was no sound coming from any of the screens.

People sat in small groups around the waiting room, most of them anxiously silent, but any conversation that existed was done in soft voices. Even the nurses and doctors that came through to talk to the patients and loved ones did so quietly, and those that didn’t stop moved through the room purposefully. Michael watched them all, trying to distract himself from the pain by focusing on the people around him.

His arm throbbed painfully, a heavy pressure against his limb, but it was okay as long as he didn’t move it. Or his hand. Or his fingers. Then, pain lanced through his arm, though it had persisted long enough that it no longer took his breath away or brought tears to his eyes. Michael had managed to compose himself enough to act as he should in public, even with the broken bones pressing against his skin. At least this time it was easier to try and push the pain to the back of his head than the last time he’d come in with a broken arm. It wasn’t as easy as with the cuts and bruises, but Michael was working on it.

Ever since they had arrived, Michael’s mom had been putting on her “worried mother” act. She had told the receptionist about Michael and an unfortunate skateboard accident, and she had gushed concern at his wellbeing and how dangerous such activities were. Now she sat close by, occasionally asking if he was okay and if he was in pain, while Michael just made little noises in answer and stared resolutely out at the waiting room. Her act seemed to be fooling other people, but they only saw what she wanted them to.

No one there knew that Michael’s mom hadn’t been able to take him to the emergency room for two hours, because she had been very upset and had had to go calm down for a while. No one knew Michael had spent all of that time dampening the pain and trying to do so without making a single sound. No one knew about what waited for Michael at home, all the things he still had to do despite his broken arm, in order to make his mom happier and maybe make her false cheer real.

Instead, people only saw what he and his mom wanted them to see. Just an upset little boy with a broken arm, being comforted and coddled by his concerned mother.

They weren’t waiting for very long before a nurse approached them and knelt down in front of Michael’s chair. He looked up into a face he recognized, a woman about as old as his mom in bright pink scrubs, who smiled at him gently and with soft concern in her eyes. That look always looked so much more real on her than it did on his mom, though Michael wasn’t sure if the nurse was just a better actor or if she actually meant it.

“Hey, Michael,” she said kindly, glancing briefly up at his mom and then back to him. “Did you get in another accident?”

Michael looked around at his mom briefly, and her mask slipped for half a second. It was long enough for him to catch the hard look in her eye and the frown that flashed across her face before her concerned look was back in place, like nothing happened.

Nodding slowly, Michael looked back around at the nurse and sniffled a little. His arm burned and throbbed and ached, but he tried to ignore it, and forced his voice to be calm and even. “I fell off a skateboard,” he said resolutely. “I think I hit a rock.”

“I told you to watch out for that when you went out, Michael,” his mom reprimanded gently, and Michael nodded, though he was hardly listening. “These kids just don’t listen, do they?”

The nurse chuckled but didn’t answer Michael’s mom, instead standing up and offering her hand to Michael. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get that arm looked at, okay? It’ll be alright,” she promised. Michael glanced at his mom briefly once more and she smiled tightly, rubbing Michael’s back in a way that she probably thought was comforting but Michael didn’t like. The soft touch didn’t feel right, and it made Michael tense up for a moment in response.

He knew that other kids were supposed to like it when their mom rubbed their backs, or stuck close, or checked up on them. But unlike those kids, Michael knew it wasn’t real, just a front put on to make everyone believe families were happy.

Michael grabbed the nurse’s hand and stood up, holding his arm close to his body. She led him further back into the hospital, talking cheerfully. She asked him where it hurt and how he felt, and told him that they’d get him fixed up quick and it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Michael actually laughed a little when she told him that he would just have to go around wrapped in bubble wrap to keep this from happening again.

But his mom was right behind his shoulder the whole time, watching and looming and making Michael uncomfortable even as the nurse tried to make him feel better. So he stayed quiet for the most part, letting the nurse talk and listening happily, while trying to ignore his mom.

Within a couple hours, his arm would be in a cast and fixed up and they’d be going home. And Michael’s mom would be tired from keeping up her act all day, and she’d drop it fast once they left, so Michael wasn’t actually looking forward to seeing and doctor and being able to go home.

But with any luck, the broken arm meant the worst of his bad day was over, and he hoped that leaving the house and going to school the next day would be good for him.

\----- 

Geoff was having more fun with Gavin than he’d had with any of the other kids he’d hung out with.

The two of them played video games and had loud arguments about who _should_ have won that race, and that was _definitely_ cheating, and do you even know what just happened there? Gavin chatted happily about the friends he’d made, and how happy he was that he made friends so fast cause he’d been worried about moving to a new country and not knowing anyone. Geoff himself was glad he’d made friends quickly as well, and they seemed a lot cooler than the Academy kids.

All the other kids that Geoff had grown up around were boring and arrogant. They didn’t want to play games with Geoff, or if they did, they just complained about the resolution of the TV or how outdated Geoff’s collection was, because _they_ got that one game that wasn’t coming out for another four months and Geoff didn’t have it yet.

Any conversations with those kids ended up being dull. It was all about trips that they had taken or things that they were doing at home, all of which were meant to one-up Geoff and his family. Any talks about school was about as exciting, since the Academy hardly taught them anything Geoff was interested in. They would talk about parties and meet ups that were coming up that would just lead to more dull conversations, and often trying to best one another happened in multiple languages that Geoff hated learning.

But it was so much easier with Gavin. He just seemed excited to be hanging out with Geoff, and asked as many questions about Geoff as Geoff did about him. He was just a lot of fun to talk to, and Geoff was glad he decided to find someone to spend time with after school.

Geoff had no idea how long he and Gavin had been sitting up in his room playing games by the time Sheila knocked on his door. He paused the game and looked up as Sheila cracked the door and looked inside, smiling faintly.

“Geoffrey, your mother has returned. Dinner will be in half an hour, and she’s asked that you look presentable,” Sheila said, and then she smiled at Gavin. “Are you staying with us for dinner?”

Gavin looked over at Geoff curiously, eyes wide and hopeful, and Geoff nodded. He wanted Gavin to stay, cause maybe dinner would be more interesting with a friend.

“Yeah, I wanna stay!” Gavin said happily, turning and grinning at Sheila.

“Alright, I’ll get another place set,” she said. “Remember, half an hour.”

Geoff waved his hand dismissively and resumed the game, the quick fighting music blaring from his TV’s speakers. Gavin scrambled for his controller, his character flailing wildly as Geoff knocked him out of the fighting arena.

“No fair! You didn’t say it was starting!” Gavin screeched and Geoff laughed as their fight continued.

It was only five minutes before they had to be downstairs for dinner when Geoff finally shut off the game and hopped up from his bed. He pulled open his closet and looked in the mirror, straightening out his shirt and trying to get a couple of the wrinkles out. His mom was picky about how he looked at dinners, and he didn’t want the first thing he’d heard from her in nearly a week to be a complaint about his appearance.

“Can you hand me my jacket?” Geoff asked, pulling a tie from the rack in his closet and throwing it around his neck, popping up the collar of his shirt. Gavin grabbed the suit jacket from where Geoff had tossed it on his comforter, sliding off the bed and passing it to Geoff.

“You gotta wear a tie to dinner?” Gavin asked, watching in fascination as Geoff quickly did up his tie and pulled it snuggly around his throat. He flipped the collar down again and took his jacket from Gavin, throwing it on and making sure it sat right.

Grimacing, Geoff turned and faced Gavin, throwing his arms out to his sides. “Yeah. Do I look okay?” he asked, and Gavin looked at the suit for a second.

“You look like one of those little circus monkeys,” Gavin said with a grin, and Geoff laughed, pulling at his tie self-consciously. Gavin himself wasn’t so cleaned up – his rumpled dress shirt, the plastic glasses hanging from the collar, the jeans that were a little torn up and stained – but Geoff didn’t think he had anything that would fit his friend.

Besides, he couldn’t picture Gavin in a full suit.

“C’mon, we gotta get downstairs,” Geoff said, hurrying out of the room with Gavin close behind.

Geoff rushed downstairs and then slowed quickly to a more calm pace seconds before he entered the large dining room, where his mother was already waiting. Three places had been set at the very end of the long table, the dishes set perfectly in place as if they had been mapped.

“You’re late, Geoffrey,” his mother said brusquely. She sat at one side of the table, and Geoff always thought she looked like a wax statue. Her hair was perfectly in place, her dress was immaculate, and the jewelry at her ears and throat gleamed. She did not look like she had just flown in from across the country.

“I apologize,” Geoff said, even though he was sure he and Gavin had arrived exactly on time. He slid into one of the seats across the table from his mother, and Gavin scrambled into the chair next to him. “Mother, this is my friend Gavin. We met after school today.”

“Hi!” Gavin said cheerfully, grinning and waving and apparently oblivious to the dirty once-over Geoff’s mother gave him.

“Hello, Gavin, it's a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and she sounded less than pleased to see Gavin sitting at her table. Geoff glanced over at his friend, who was staring around the dining room in awe, bouncing slightly as he swung his legs back and forth over the floor. “So, Gavin, what do your parents do?”

Gavin looked at Geoff’s mother for a second before Sheila started to bring out dinner, and then the smaller boy’s head whipped around to look at the food. “Uh…my mum works at a shop. And my dad does computer stuff for the FBI now,” he said, looking away from the food so he was talking to Geoff’s mother direction.

“That sounds…rewarding,” she said slowly, and Geoff sighed, turning his attention down to his food. The rest of dinner passed with his mother asking careful questions to Gavin, and making snide little comments about him and his family after he answered most of the questions, though Gavin at least didn’t seem to notice.

Gavin left after dinner, and he promised to see Geoff the next day at school. Geoff said goodbye and saw him out, actually excited to go to school tomorrow and spend time with his new friends. His mother, however, was not as excited, and she retired to her room for the evening with an offhand, “I’m glad you’re finally interested in doing something with yourself, Geoffrey, but we don’t need to take on any more charity cases for a while.”

Geoff wrinkled up his nose and stuck his tongue out at her retreating back, undoing his tie sharply. Well, even if his mother didn’t agree, _he_ liked Gavin. And she was just gonna have to deal with it.


	8. Against Expectations Part 1

Gavin woke up half an hour before his alarm and couldn’t get back to sleep, but he didn’t really mind. He was excited for the day, because everything seemed like it’d end up great.

After all his worries of moving to a new country and not knowing anyone, Gavin was thrilled to have made friends so fast. And he really liked them, too. He could see Ray in class today and they could talk and play, and he could actually thank Michael for helping and talk to him. He could probably find Geoff at recess and at lunch and they could keep playing together, just like they had last night. And on top of that, Gavin’s dad was supposed to be back by the time Gavin got out of school.

When Gavin got home the night before, he had managed to get ahold of his dad before bed. He had been able to tell his dad all about his first day at school and everything he had done and that this was the best place he’d gone to school ever. His dad had listened intently, expressing interest in what Gavin said and asking questions. Gavin promised his dad he was being good and yes, he ate dinner, and he hadn’t brushed his teeth but he would before he went to bed. And then his dad had made the promise.

Gavin was told that his dad’s job should be wrapping up soon. They were very close to catching the guy they were after, and his dad said he probably wouldn’t be needed much longer. At this point, the field agents were doing most of the work, and Gavin’s dad had done about as much as a technical expert could at that point. So he said he’d be back the next day, probably while Gavin was in school, and the two of them could order pizza and rent a movie and have a night together and then get all their stuff the next day and fully unpack and set up the house.

Waking up early left Gavin with more than enough time to get ready, and no real fear of running late. He got up and got dressed and grabbed something to eat. The something to eat happened to be a couple cookies from on top of the fridge and some yogurt, and Gavin put a couple cookies in his pocket to eat at lunch later. He didn’t want to use all his emergency money for lunch, so he’d just take some stuff to eat and he’d be okay.

It was definitely earlier than Gavin had left the day before, but he didn’t want to sit around and do nothing when he could be trying to meet up with his friends before school started. So Gavin hurried from the house, returned after walking half a block in order to grab his backpack, and then jogged down the road toward the school.

Gavin got to the school earlier than he had the day before, and he wondered if any of his friends were there yet. As far as he could tell, none of them were out front among all the other kids, so Gavin went inside toward his classroom. Even if no one was there, he could look for Ray and Geoff and even Michael without having to carry his backpack around.

If Gavin’s friends were at the school yet, they definitely weren’t in the classroom. It was nearly empty, except for the teacher and the boy she was talking to. Gavin didn’t remember seeing him the day before – he was really little, and his clothes looked too big. They were also very colorful – orange shirt and pants, bright purple jacket, and a cowboy hat he turned between his hands.

“Good morning, Gavin,” Mrs. Webber said with a smile, waving at him. The boy looked over but didn’t otherwise move when Gavin smiled and waved back.

“Hi, Mrs. Webber!” Gavin said, hanging his backpack on his hook in the back. “I’m gonna go find Ray.”

Mrs. Webber didn’t answer as Gavin hurried back out of the classroom and back to his search for his friends.

Even in the few minutes he’d been inside, a lot more students had gathered in the yard and around the playground. Gavin wandered between kids, sometimes pausing to stand up on his tiptoes and try to spot his friends.

He saw Geoff first – he was hard to miss in his suit, among all the kids in t-shirts and jeans. Gavin grinned and rushed forward, but slowed almost to a halt a moment later, unsure. It looked like Geoff was talking to someone else, a boy in a rumpled Hawaiian shirt and holding a pair of glasses loosely in one hand. Geoff had a hand on the other boy’s shoulder and was talking, while the other kid shook his head and rubbed at his eyes like he was crying. Gavin watched for a moment and then turned around and walked away. It seemed like Geoff was busy, and Gavin didn’t want to bother them or anything. He could find Geoff at recess and lunch later.

Instead, he tried to focus on finding Ray.

It took a little bit of searching, but Gavin finally found him sitting against a wall, his knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. Ray didn’t look up when Gavin approached, but Gavin didn’t mind. Ray seemed kind of shy, and that was okay.

Gavin sat down beside Ray and said cheerfully, “Hi, Ray!” He didn’t get an answer, and Ray didn’t stop staring straight ahead, but Gavin didn’t let that deter him. Ray probably just didn’t have much to say. “My dad says we should be getting our stuff soon, so I should be able to play Pokemon with you! Well, I don’t know if I have a link cable… If you don’t have one, my dad might be able to get us one, and then we can play!”

“Go away,” Ray mumbled and Gavin paused, unsure if he’d heard right.

“What?” Gavin asked.

“Go away, Gavin,” Ray repeated more firmly, pulling his legs closer. “I don’t wanna talk to you. I don’t wanna play Pokemon with you. Go away.”

Gavin just stared at Ray, stunned. What did he do? “Ray, why?” Gavin whimpered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Just leave me alone, Gavin!” Ray shouted, and Gavin jumped, scooting away from his friend nervously. “I don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to talk, I don’t want you around!” Ray finally pulled his attention away from where he was staring, scowling at Gavin. Some kids nearby turned to see what was going on, but Gavin didn’t care about them.

“Oh… O-okay,” Gavin mumbled, and he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he got up. Ray continued glaring until Gavin backed up a couple steps. Then Ray flipped his hood up and buried his face in his knees, curling into a tight ball on the ground. Gavin stared at him for a moment and sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, before he left Ray where he was. Apparently Gavin had been wrong in thinking they were actually friends. Or he was such a bad friend that Ray didn’t want them to be anymore. It must’ve been something Gavin did, he just didn’t know what.

No longer wanting to be outside with everyone else, Gavin trudge back into the school and to his classroom. The little boy with the colorful clothes was gone, but Mrs. Webber was still there, since the bell was probably going to ring really soon. Gavin went past her and to his desk, with his name written across in big letters, Ray’s right next to him. He just glanced at Ray’s name tag and then crossed his arms on his desk and hid his face in his elbows.

“Gavin? Are you okay?” Mrs. Webber asked gently, and she put a hand on his back. Gavin could smell flowers when she knelt down beside him but he didn’t look up. He didn’t want her to think he was a crybaby when he couldn’t get the tears to stop building up.

Instead, Gavin nodded once, hoping she’d go away. He was trying to figure out what he did wrong, why Ray didn’t like him anymore, how he’d been such a bad friend. He didn’t think Mrs. Webber could help.

“You can talk to me if you want to,” Mrs. Webber said. The bell rang, loud and shrill, and almost made Gavin jump. His teacher rubbed his back gently before she got up. “Let me know if you want my help today.”

Gavin didn’t move as she left his table, or when he heard all the other kids come in to the classroom. He heard the chair next to him move and Gavin sniffed, looking up slowly. Ray sat down and stared straight down at the desk, fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie, ignoring Gavin entirely.

For the most part, Gavin kept to himself in class that morning. He tried tentatively to talk to Ray once or twice, but got no answer, except the other boy would turn away and act like Gavin wasn’t there. It made the morning seem to go on forever, and Gavin wasn’t able to focus on writing his letters when he was so worried about Ray being upset with him.

When it was time for recess, Gavin hurried outside, hoping that he could find Geoff. Maybe they could play something that’d make Gavin feel better, and it would be okay.

It was easy to spot Geoff, but Gavin stopped before he even took more than a couple steps that way. Geoff was playing with two other boys on the playground, charging up the equipment to the very top where the slide was. The boy he had been talking to that morning was close behind, and they were followed by another kid who was taking the steps much more slowly and carefully. Gavin didn’t know what they were playing, but Geoff was shouting something and brandishing at the air with a stick, and it looked like it could be fun. But Gavin was a little scared.

He had been so sure that Ray was his friend and they could play together, and he had been wrong. What if he was wrong about Geoff, too? What if he had done something to make Geoff hate him as well, and Gavin wasn’t allowed to play there either? What if whatever Gavin did wrong made Geoff’s new friends upset, and they didn’t want him around? Gavin didn’t want any of that to happen, and it was possible it wouldn’t, but he was scared to find out.

So Gavin went over to the swings and sat down, pushing himself slowly back and forth. Ray had settled down against the wall of the school, not really doing anything more than running his finger along the asphalt. Geoff continued playing with his friends, coaxing one of the boys to go down the slide. No one really stopped to see if Gavin wanted to play as they raced by, so he just watched.

At one point, in one of Gavin’s many scans of the playground, he met Michael’s eye. Michael sat in the woodchips, making a small tower out of them, and one arm was wrapped up in a cast and held in a sling. Gavin had noticed it earlier but hadn’t asked what had happened, and Michael didn’t seem like he wanted to share anyway. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then a couple kids walked past Michael and kicked over his tower, and he jumped up to start yelling at them.

Gavin was glad when school finally ended. He’d ended up spending most of the day alone, scared to try talking to Ray again, worried that Geoff or Michael or some of the other kids would share Ray’s feelings and not want him around. The one thing that made Gavin feel a little better was the thought that his dad should be returning from work, and they were going to do stuff tonight.

Walking home was easy because it meant Gavin didn’t have to wait around in the crowd of kids for a bus or a car to pick him up, he could just leave. Gavin gripped his backpack straps tight and ran away from the school and toward home, eagerly waiting to see his dad’s car sitting in the driveway to welcome him home.

As Gavin approached the house, he realized the car wasn’t where he was expecting to see it. It didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby. He decided his dad was probably just late getting home, and he’d be home soon. Or he was picking up some things first, and Gavin would see him soon.

Hopeful that the day would end well, Gavin unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping his backpack in the entryway. His stomach rumbled loudly, since he’d barely eaten anything since his breakfast. The cookies in his pocket had broken and crumbled and he’d only had the remaining crumbs to have for lunch since he didn’t have money.

Gavin wandered into the kitchen, rummaging around the fridge and grabbing a cheese stick to start with. He spun in place for a moment, wondering if he should just get some cereal, when he noticed the light flashing on the answering machine. Nibbling on his cheese stick, Gavin pressed play, listening to the automatic voice announce that there was a new message.

The machine beeped and his dad’s voice came through. “Hey there, bud. Listen… I know I said I’d be back tonight, but it looks like things aren’t quite as done as I thought. Something else came up and I’m needed for a little bit longer. I’m going to try and come home as soon as I can, I promise, but it won’t be tonight. I’m sorry, Gav, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Call me if you need anything at all. Love you and miss you.”

A final beep echoed in the kitchen and Gavin slumped. He shuffled out of the kitchen, throwing away his snack as he went. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so hungry – it felt like his stomach had dropped down and been crumpled up in a ball.

Gavin went into his room and threw himself down on the air mattress, curling up in a ball and pulling a blanket close around him. Tears sprang up again, and this time Gavin let them come, sobbing into his blanket, the hurt and frustration of the day rising up. He’d lost a new friend, was scared of it happening with his other, and now his dad had turned around and broken a promise.

Gavin wished today hadn’t happened. He hated today.


	9. Against Expectations: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, an update almost exactly a year after the last, but... This story isn't dead! Just took a break. Little Jack wasn't making things easy, either. I can't guarantee any quick updates, but I'm gonna try not to have it be as long between chapters again. Hope you guys enjoy!

Jack was having a bad day, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning.

Really, his bad day was just a continuation of the previous day. After he’d lost his bike, Jack had tried to gather up all the loose money that he could, with limited success. A lot of it had been grabbed up from the street and the sidewalk, but he’d lost a good amount either under car tires or to the wind. His shopping trip didn’t end up like it should’ve, cause he didn’t have as much as he’d thought and his arms burned afterwards with the effort of carrying everything home.

After all of that was said and done, it was getting late, but Jack still had to do chores and homework and make dinner for him and his grandma and help her get situated for the night. He ended up going to bed later than normal, exhausted and with his alarm set even earlier. When he woke up, Jack was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he couldn’t let himself just ignore his job. He needed that job. Especially after the day before.

Jack got ready for the day and walked to the small building where he collected his batch of newspapers every morning, the early morning air crisp and cool. It was still dark, and though the horizon was getting brighter, the streets were mostly lit by the lamp posts and the occasional flash of a car’s headlights. It was a further trip than Jack realized, without his bike to speed up the process, and he ended up jogging the last few blocks so that he didn’t get there too late.

The local newspaper had a small office crammed between other shop fronts that were closed so early in the morning, and it was mostly a hub for the handful of local paper boys. Usually Jack caught sight of at least one of the other kids coming or going, but this morning it was quiet. The only person around was the manager of the depot, who stood outside the front door with a cigarette in hand, watching Jack jog up to him.

“Good morning, Jack. Where’s your bike?” he called as Jack slowed to a walk, breathing heavily.

Jack took a second to try and slow his breaths, so he wasn’t gasping for air between every word, and answered, “It got stolen yesterday. But I can still do the route!”

His boss looked at him for a second and then slowly shook his head, eyes soft and sympathetic, but that didn’t stop Jack’s heart from dropping. “Maybe you should just head back home today, Jack. You’re already late starting up, and it’ll take you a while to do it all right now. I wouldn’t want you missing school because you were trying to get this done. We’ll get your route figured out this morning. You should go home, see about getting a new bike or getting yours back, or I can work out a shorter route for you to do if you’re on foot. Take the morning off, and call me tonight so we can figure out what to do moving forward.”

“But… I can do it. I swear. It won’t take me that long,” Jack protested, staring at the man pleadingly and gripping the edge of his shirt anxiously.

“We’ve got it. Go home and relax and get yourself ready for school. I’ll talk to you tonight.” The manager clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed, and then put his cigarette out with the heel of his shoe and went inside.

Jack could only stare for a second, his breath shaky and rough, tears prickling at his eyes that he refused to let fall. It was okay. Only one day wouldn’t be too bad. It was just one. But Jack needed everything he could get, and he felt like he was letting his grandma down by not being able to work like he had been. She relied on him, he was supposed to help, but he couldn’t do that cause a group of middle schoolers were jerks and stole his bike and made his money disappear in the street.

Finally, Jack turned away from the depot and trudged back home, in no real rush to get back. There wasn’t much reason for it. He did still have things to do, but it didn’t take that much time, and there was no need to get out of breath and hurried just so he could make breakfast. Maybe his morning would’ve been rushed and not fun if he’d worked, the manager was probably right, but going home like this still didn’t make Jack feel good.

The morning almost felt like it dragged on for Jack. He made it home and made up breakfast for himself and his grandma. When he carried it in to her, he put on a smile and told her his route had gone well as he got her medication and opened the curtains. Jack still hadn’t told her what had happened the day before – he didn’t want to worry her. It could make her more sick if she was really upset or worried, and it was something that he was sure he could fix himself. Somehow.

It was a lot earlier than Jack normally left for school by the time he walked out the door, but he didn’t want to just sit around the house watching time crawl, and a thought was forming in order to make things right again.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure where the middle schoolers lived exactly, just that they were in the same neighborhood, but he didn’t care. If he didn’t see them, he could look later, or there could be something at one of the nearby houses that pointed it out as one of theirs. But looking didn’t hurt. He had the time, and if he was lucky, he could find his bike and take it back. It probably wasn’t going to be used by the kid to get him to school – the middle school was across town, and everyone in the neighborhood took the bus. A bike would be useless.

He walked along the streets of the neighborhood for a while, watching at it came to life around him. A line of older kids waited at a street corner for the bus, joking and laughing and calling out to each other. A man jogged by with a cheerful dog at his heels, and he waved at Jack as he passed. One family was loading up into a car, a very small child yelling loudly about dinosaurs as his parents tried to get him in his seat.

It got close to when Jack should’ve been heading to the school himself, and he decided to go down one more block first, just to see. He’d been slowly working his way closer to his school, so he didn’t need to leave quite as soon as normal, it wasn’t as far. It wouldn’t hurt to look.

As Jack was nearing the end of the block, and the turn he needed to get to school, he saw what he was looking for. His bike was leaned up against the porch of one of the houses, sitting out in the open, and Jack’s eyes widened. He hurried over to it, grabbing the handlebars and righting it, but it didn’t move far before it was stopped by a chain connecting the frame of the bike to the porch. Jack looked down at the chain in dismay, tugging at it with no effect, the links rattling and all but telling him that it was pointless.

He let out a low groan, tugging at the bike once more out of frustration. It was right there, that was his bike! It was his and he couldn’t get it back.

Jack looked at his bike and the porch dejectedly and was just about to turn and head to school, when the front door opened. A woman stood in the doorway, glaring at Jack, and he froze. “What are you doing?” she demanded, and Jack looked from her to the bike.

“That’s my bike,” he said, pointing to it. “It got taken yesterday. It’s mine.”

The woman looked unamused. “No, that is my son’s bike that you are trying to steal. Get out of my yard.”

“But…that’s my bike!” Jack repeated, now more confused than upset. “He took it from me. He took my bike and smashed the jar with my money in it. It’s not his.”

“Get off my lawn or I’m calling the police,” the woman declared. “My son would never do that, and you are a horrible little boy for lying and accusing him of it. Get out of here, and leave my son alone!”

Jack stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, unsure why she wasn’t doing something about it. It wasn’t hard to realize that this bike was his and it was stolen the day before, and obviously her son would do something like that, cause he did. Why didn’t she believe him?

The woman stepped out of the doorway and onto the porch, charging down the steps. Jack just watched her and insisted, “I’m not lying,” and then her hand was clamped down on his arm and fully dragging him away harshly. “Ow, hey, stop!” he shouted, her fingers digging painfully into his skin.

“Get out of here, and don’t show yourself at my house ever again, or the police will be the ones dealing with a lying thief like you,” she said, letting go and propelling Jack forward with enough force that he stumbled. The tears started to come up again, and his arm hurt, but he tried not to cry. Instead he turned away from the house and ran, backpack thumping against his back, and he at least made it away from the house a ways before he started crying.

This was no fair. Nothing was working, everything was ruined, and Jack didn’t know what to do or how to fix it, especially if no one listened. The boy’s mom should’ve helped, she should’ve known and let him get his bike back. He should’ve been able to do his job like normal and everything should’ve just been fine. Really, those boys should’ve just left him alone. But they didn’t, and everything was going wrong, and all Jack could do was walk to the school with tears running down his face.

As he got into the schoolyard, Jack pulled his glasses off and tried to dry his face. No one needed to see him crying, it wasn’t their problem, he didn’t want to worry anyone or bother them with what was going on. And crying was gross. No one his age cried at school.

“Hey, Jack!” someone called out, and Jack looked up, sniffling and squinting through the watery haze in his vision and his lack of glasses. Even with his bad vision, Jack could pick out Geoff in his suit crossing the front yard of the school toward him, and Jack scrubbed at his face more fiercely, trying to smile.

“Hi, Geoff,” he said quietly, his throat closed and thick from crying.

“What’s wrong?” Geoff asked worriedly, stepping up beside Jack and looking around. “Why are you crying?”

Jack swallowed, hesitating for a second, and wiped his running nose on the back of his hand. “I lost my bike,” he mumbled. “Some older kids took it yesterday. They took my bike and broke my money and I couldn’t do my route and the kid’s mom didn’t believe me when I tried to get my bike back and my arm hurts.” His words came out faster and faster as he talked, choked up with tears and snot, and he wasn’t sure if he made sense by the end of it.

Geoff put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and looked around again, his eyes hard. “What kids did that?” he asked.

“Some middle schoolers that live near my house,” Jack said, sniffling and scrubbing at his eyes. The tears had slowed, but his eyes felt tired and puffy, and he was all snotty and gross.

“I’m sorry, Jack. You want some help getting it back? I can help you,” he offered, and Jack smiled weakly.

“Thanks, Geoff. But I don’t want to get in trouble. His mom was really upset, and my bike was chained up. I just gotta get money for a new one. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. That’s not theirs,” Geoff said vehemently. “Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll help. I promise. And no one will get in trouble. Okay?” He wrapped his arms around Jack in a quick hug and then pulled back, looking down at his clothes. “You got boogers on my jacket.”

Jack laughed, putting his glasses back on and wiping at the wet spot on Geoff’s suit jacket. “You hugged me, it’s your fault.” Geoff looked offended, huffing out that it couldn’t be his fault, nothing was ever his fault, while Jack giggled. The weight in the pit of his stomach started to lift, and though it was still there and he was still feeling really bad, Geoff made it better. By the time the bell rang and they went into the classroom, Jack felt a lot less like crying at least, and Geoff seemed to be doing his best to make him laugh.

The rest of the day didn’t go too badly. Their work in the classroom was pretty easy, it would be for a while since it was still the beginning of the year. Geoff kept trying to bother Jack and get his attention, little pokes and prods and whispers from behind him, but Jack ignored him. Even if it was hard when some of Geoff’s snarky little comments about various classmates made Jack smile faintly and hold back a chuckle.

Ryan played with them again at recess, this time without the mask. He’d been quiet and withdrawn a lot of the day, but he brightened up when they got outside and continued the game of army they’d been playing the day before, fending off the hoards of enemy soldiers that were storming their tower. The tower was rigged with traps and explosives and weapons, though it took some convincing to get Ryan all the way up to the top in order to keep lookout for approaching scouts.

By the time school let out, Jack had forgotten some of his problems, caught up in the cheerful energy that just seemed to follow Geoff around. Like the day before, he and Geoff and Ryan left the school together, and Geoff moaned about the vocabulary homework they had. It wasn’t until Ryan branched off to join his dad and Jack turned toward the bike rack to go home that he stopped, his earlier troubles smacking him again. He looked at the bike rack and then sighed, turning to Geoff with a smile and waving goodbye.

He didn’t get far before Geoff grabbed his sleeve, stopping him from leaving. “Hey, do you want a ride? I don’t know how far you have to go, but this would probably be faster,” Geoff offered, pointing to the nice sports car that was waiting for him.

“Are you sure? I can walk, it’s not a big deal,” Jack asked and Geoff scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. Sheila can get you home. I told you I’d help, right?” Geoff said, grinning widely, and Jack couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’d be nice. If it’s okay, of course,” Jack said, tacking the last bit on quickly. He didn’t want to be a hassle cause they had to drop him off.

By way of answer, Geoff grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the sports car, hollering to Sheila as he went. Jack let himself be dragged along, a warm feeling building in his chest. He’d had a collection of friends before, when he didn’t live with his grandma, but it had been a while, and none of them had been like Geoff. Jack hadn’t met anyone else who had tried to help as much as Geoff had in only the last day, and it was nice.

At the very least, he’d gained a friend over the last couple days.


End file.
